


All Star Designer

by Sceela (Mishafied)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Competition, Designer Castiel, Designer Dean, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Schmoop, Tim Gunn is amazing and flawless, Top Dean, everyone is a designer, project runway supernatural style yo, walk walk fashion baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 104,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishafied/pseuds/Sceela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a self taught designer who would love to make something other than prom dresses for teenagers in Kansas; Castiel is a damaged soul who is desperate to prove to himself that he's not worthless. When they both make the final cut onto All Star Designer, between the competition, the judgement, and the drama, they just might find a balance in each other. Or kill each other first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're In

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will usually update late on Monday nights, Tuesday if things go slow. Obviously it's a Project Runway AU, and while I know some people will inevitably scoff at the idea of Dean as a fashion designer, this idea wouldn't leave me alone and I shall do my best to do his character justice. Lots of characters in here- pretty much the only major character that isn't from Supernatural is Tim Gunn, because you just can't replace him. That would be a travesty.
> 
> If you'd like updates on story progress for this or my other upcoming work, you can follow me on Tumblr, where my username is destielsafehaven. Enjoy!

Standing in line between a drag queen named Georgia and two rapid talking women in bright pink all while holding a heavy garment bag, Dean was pretty sure he was going to pass out from heat and boredom before he even got to the part of the line that was indoors.

 

It was mid April in Kansas, and by all rights it should have still been nice and cool outside, but Mother Nature evidently hated fashion designers and everything they stood for- no pun intended. The sun beat down on them, shining off the dark pavement in a way that would no doubt end in sunburn; and yet somehow Georgia was still dressed to the nines, in a full wig, heavy makeup, and a dress that had more fabric in it than the fabric store nearest to Dean’s house. And probably that many kinds of fabric, too.

 

He had to ask himself why he was even here again, despite the fact that he‘d already asked himself that question about seventy times. The answer was the same every time: money. Well, mostly. He pulled out his phone (he was surprised he had battery left, after checking it so often) and read the text message again, partly to keep himself from abandoning his spot in the slowly crawling line. _Bet you two hundred bucks you couldn’t get your toe in the door on that show_ , the text said, and Dean didn’t know where Sam would even get two hundred dollars when he was a broke law major, but that hardly mattered. A bet was a bet, and he didn’t have anything to lose, especially not with a round of auditions being held right in Topeka this year.

 

He was certain he wouldn’t be getting those two hundred dollars though, either. He’d only watched a few episodes of All Star Design, but he was still convinced they were looking for the kind of people who used fifty yards of silk chiffon in one dress and then stuck a goose on the model’s head and called it ‘avant garde’ or some shit. They weren’t looking for a guy who routinely injected leather and plaid into formal outfits just for the sake of being contrary.

 

He lifted his gaze from the phone when he heard voices murmuring farther up the line, and he leaned out a little to look ahead. There were two people coming down the line, a man in a suit holding a clipboard, and a woman in a severe looking jacket and pencil skirt. She leaned forward, two fingers holding a strip of fabric from someone’s work up ahead, gripping it as if it were some disgusting slimy eel instead of stretch knit. She dropped it with a sneer, and then continued down the line- and occasionally when she stopped to talk to someone, that someone would slink out of the line looking dejected.

 

The first cut was evidently happening before they even got to the first set of judges. And judging by this lady’s outfit and facial expression, Dean was pretty certain he’d be one of those people taking the walk of shame back to their car.

 

“Oh, boy, don’t you worry,” Georgia said upon seeing the look on his face. She clapped a huge hand on his shoulder in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture but was more bone-jarring. “You’re a pretty little thing, you ain’t gettin’ cut on the first round.”

 

“Uh…thanks?” Dean said, though he wasn’t sure it was a compliment, because he really didn’t want to make it onto the show just to be the eye candy that gets kicked off first.

 

Not that he really wanted on the show at all. He would be stuck living with a bunch of elitist couture obsessed pricks for weeks on end, trying to please judges that seemed to have wildly varying standards of what constituted fashion. But hey, he would get two hundred dollars and maybe a boost to his business if he made it a round or two in. Plus a free trip to New York; like hell was he visiting New York City without squeezing in a visit to the Manhattan Car Club.

 

The woman was making quick work of weeding people out as the line moved forward, and not many people tried to argue with her. Before Dean could even prepare an explanation in his mind for his pieces, something that sounded like he at least somewhat knew what he was doing, she was talking to the woman in front of him. She only took moment to eye the wig skeptically and glance at the garments, her features pinched with disdain as she moved on to Dean.

 

“Good face,” she said, studying Dean like he was at a modeling casting call instead of a designing competition. “Open the bag.”

 

He fumbled to pull the zipper down on the garment bag, and she didn’t even wait on him to fully unzip it. She tugged at the flap to see inside, grabbing at the black leather jacket sleeve and pulling it out to look at the seam.

 

“Good looking and a decent seam. You stay,” she said, already moving on to the women behind him. Dean blinked in surprise, his mouth still open from being about to explain the inspiration for the jacket.

 

“Told you,” Georgia said, her southern twang sneaking into her voice. “First cut they’re gettin’ rid of the unfortunate looking and the ones who can’t sew in a straight line. Though, if you’re pretty enough, they might let the sewin’ pass for now.”

 

Dean chuckled nervously. “You know way too much about all this.”

 

“Tends to happen when this is your fifth season tryin’ out,” Georgia said with a shrug, though the tone wasn’t of the expected disappointment or sadness- just determination. Dean raised an eyebrow, shuffling forward again as the line moved; they were almost to the glass doors of the hotel now.

 

“Five seasons? You’ve got more patience than me,” he said, and Georgia snorted.

 

“These wigs aren’t cheap, honey,” she said, and they were interrupted as another person came down the line with a stack of stickers and a clipboard. She got to Dean and slapped a sticker on the front of his shirt with the number 181 on it.

 

“Name?” she asked, and she jotted it down on the clipboard as quick as he said it before moving on. It was like a designer assembly line, rolling toward the ballroom of the hotel where the judging was set up. Although he imagined that normal assembly lines didn’t have the sound of sobbing thrown in when someone was tossed from the line. He distinctly heard the woman saying to someone farther back “Honey, just go home,” her tone practically screaming pity.

 

Talk about humiliating. He was glad that wasn’t him.

 

Dean had to wonder just how receptive the judges would be after seeing 180 other designers before him. Not to mention the designers that had gotten through because of a ‘good face’ and not the samples they were carrying- they had to hate seeing those come through the doors. Then again, the first round judges were probably production people who were just looking for the insanely talented and the…well, insane. They always seemed to have that one person each season who seemed to be there just to cause friction.

 

Once they passed that preliminary check and got numbered, things went fairly quick. The line passed by a table where the filled out applications were turned in, and then they were finally fed into a giant room and sat down in groups, left to wait and listen to numbers being called. When he sat down, the first number he heard called was 164.

 

It would be a long wait. The time taken with each designer varied wildly; he saw one guy go in with dresses made of just feathers, and he was back out the door in less than thirty seconds, and he looked really angry about it. Another girl was in the room for over ten minutes, as if the judges couldn’t decide about her. Most designers disappeared and reappeared in about five minutes, though, so he guessed he had at least an hour and a half wait.

 

At least he was sitting down in air conditioning now, the garment bags draped over the back of his chair as he studied the other people in the room. Some people were still finishing seams and adding embellishments, sitting on the floor with needle in hand, and he could only cringe at seeing some of the things they’d made. The room was full of ruffles and sequins and feathers and other things that should never have been attached to fabric or worn. Ever. He was pretty sure there was a rabbit skin just glued to the back of one dress.

 

At the same time, there were some that looked like they were pulled right out of a Versace show, people in perfectly pressed suits and complicated dresses. It was a good reminder that he was just some self-taught part time mechanic from Kansas who happened to have an eye for unique fashion. These judges would laugh him out of the room the second he unzipped that garment bag.

 

It only made it worse, watching the people leaving the judging room. Most of them didn’t look happy- and some looked downright devastated. The whole time he waited, he only saw one person leave that room with a smile, and she didn’t look completely sane.

 

“You look just about as lost as me in all this,” a voice said, and Dean turned to look just as a pretty blonde dropped into the chair next to his. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy low bun, but he could tell she was good already, if she made what she was wearing- the shirt had amazing detailing on it, the stitches curved into elegant, subtle designs and the appliqué flawless.

 

“Yeah. I really am,” he said with a laugh, holding out his hand. “I’m Dean.”

 

She laid her garment bag across the back of the chair and shook his hand with a cheerful smile. “Jo Harvelle.”

 

“You feel like you’ll make it?” he asked, leaning back in his seat as another girl left the judging room crying into her sleeve. Jo shrugged.

 

“Don’t know. Maybe? I don’t really know what to expect. I’ve never watched the show, that’s my mom’s thing.”

 

“You probably want to marathon a season if you make it through. Last season they made the designers make cocktail dresses out of stuff from a pet store,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Never thought Frisbees and leashes could turn out looking like a red carpet piece.”

 

Jo laughed. “Yeah, she did warn me about that stuff. She said, and I quote, ‘Joanna Beth, you grew up on a farm, and you damn well better know how to make a dress out of corn husks and horseshoes’.” Dean grinned, because he would bet that her mom said exactly that, and it was probably the perfect tone of voice, too.

 

“Well, if they ask us to make something out of car parts, I’ll be in my element,” he said, and Jo studied him head to toe.

 

“Really? You’re not just playing the bad boy angle with that look?”

 

Dean put on a hurt look. “You don’t like my look? I’m crushed.”

 

“Yeah, because oil stains as so couture these days,” she teased, and Dean looked down at the smear of motor oil on his jeans. Maybe she had a point, but looking for a pair of jeans that wasn’t torn or stained in his apartment was like looking for the holy grail in a pile of shit; hopeless, and a messy endeavor.

They fell into easy conversation over a game of Go Fish. Jo had the infinite wisdom to pack a few things in her bag to keep herself entertained- unlike Dean, who had to turn around a few blocks from his apartment to go back and grab his portfolio. Her sticker read 188, so she would be going in after him, and he figured he’d give her a heads-up about the judges in return for the company.

 

He didn’t feel ready at all when his number got called. He stood and grabbed his garment bag with trembling hands, cursing Sam for making him do this in the first place, because he could already hear the ridicule that was sure to come. Jo smiled at him, shuffling the deck with practiced ease.

 

“Good luck. You better not walk out of there crying,” she said, and Dean rolled his eyes and headed for the two people standing by the door wearing production badges.

 

He wasn’t even at the door before one of them was grabbing his arm and ripping the number sticker off his shirt. “Okay, just go in, give them your portfolio, and answer any questions truthfully. And don’t look at the camera, just pretend it’s not there,” the woman said, and Dean nearly tripped.

 

“Camera?” he repeated, but she was already opening the door and pushing him through. He stumbled in and the first thing he saw was the giant camera hoisted on a guy’s shoulder, pointed right at the door – crap, he’d already looked at it- and the second thing he saw was the table where the three judges sat waiting. Two of them he definitely recognized; the first was Bela Talbot, the winner of the last season of All Star Designer and self proclaimed ‘genius bitch’ (she lived up to the name). The second was Tim Gunn, mentor to the contestants and probably the least frightening person on the show. Dean always wondered if Tim really was that calm and collected, or if he was putting on a sympathetic show.

 

“Come on in!” Tim called out, and Dean was so used to hearing that voice over TV speakers that it was surreal to hear it in the same room as him. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the table, trying to ignore the camera as he dug his portfolio out of his ragged backpack.

 

“Well, aren’t you just a picture of fashion?” Bela said, her voice practically dripping sarcasm as she studied him head to toe. Dean had kind of been expecting it, though; he was supposedly a ‘fashion designer’, and here he was, strolling in wearing torn jeans, a faded ACDC t-shirt, a beat up leather jacket, and combat boots.

 

“Skirts don’t fit me so well,” he pointed out, and she smirked at him, taking his binder when he held it out. Score one for Dean- not frazzled by Bela’s passive aggressive insults.

 

“Well, I’m Tim Gunn, this is Bela Talbot, and this lovely woman is Marina Hatcher, one of our executive producers,” Tim said, gesturing to each in turn. “Tell us who you are and what you do.”

 

Dean tried to talk, found that his mouth was way too dry, and he swallowed hard and tried again to force some words out. “I’m, uh…I’m Dean Winchester, and I’m a mechanic.”

 

All three of them gave him an odd look at that, and he could have kicked himself; they probably meant ‘what do you do’ as in ‘what’s your design aesthetic’ or something. Marina scratched something down on her notepad, and Tim frowned. “A mechanic?” the man said, his tone one of heavy skepticism.

 

“Well, I mean, I work as a mechanic most of the time, cause prom dresses don’t pay the bills,” he said with a shrug as Bela passed his portfolio down the table to Tim. It wasn’t exactly an amazing portfolio, not like the embossed custom leather books some people out there had. No, his was a beat up black plastic school binder from Walmart, the pictures shoved into clear plastic sleeves. Nonetheless, he thought there was a pretty good range of stuff in there; he’d done a few wedding dresses, a ton of prom dresses (half of which weren’t in there because teenagers request some god awful stuff), and other random outfits he’d made.

 

“What did you bring with you?” Bela asked, nodding at his garment bag, and he hung it up on the hanger rack that stood by the judging table and unzipped it. Feeling both the judges’ eyes and the camera lens focused in on him, he took out the three garments and took them back to the table, handing them over one at a time.

 

“This is a, uh…a leather jacket I made, it’s pretty form fitting. I did some zipper details, and the belt along the bottom, and then I took some saddle soap and sandpaper to it and ran it over a few times,” he explained, all his well-planned descriptions failing him as he watched Tim and Bela look over the jacket. Bela looked horrified, though.

 

“Ran it over? With a car?”

 

“Well, technically a truck. Gives it character.”

 

Bela still looked a little disturbed as she looked back down at the jacket. After recovering from his method of distressing the leather, though, their eyes gave nothing away as Tim nodded and passed it down the table to Marina. Dean realized Bela was waiting on him, and he fumbled to detangle the next piece, all black suspenders and metal rivets and grommets.

 

“This was for a girl’s senior prom. She wanted something punk rock and told me to go crazy, so…yeah,” he said with a shrug, passing the black taffeta and cotton dress across the table.

 

“You do a lot of prom wear?” Marina asked, eyeing him critically, and Dean nodded.

 

“Kansas isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive. I don’t have my own shop to sell from, so most of the commissions I get are by word of mouth for special occasions,” he explained with obvious regret. Not that he would want to be clothing the Kardashians or whatever, but the endless ruffles and ribbons of school dances got seriously trying after a while.

 

“Did you create these yourself?” Tim asked, pointing to the back of the gown, where he had inserted cutouts in the shape of wings and lined them with metal to match the grommets- the girl originally wanted actual feathered wings, but thank God he talked her out of that and into something that wouldn’t make her look like a bad Hot Topic outfit.

 

“Yeah. I’m at the shop all day, so I have access to all the tools there. I like to experiment. And I’ve only set the place on fire once,” he said with no lack of pride- and Marina paled a little.

 

Yeah, maybe they didn’t want people who were a fire risk around their 50 dollar a yard fabric.

 

“And just why do you want to be on All Star Designer? What makes you believe you would excel?” Bela asked, reaching for his last garment, which was a silk navy and grey draped gown- not his usual style, but he knew walking in here with one type of clothing wouldn’t be smart. That and the kid’s parents had paid him a shitload of money for that dress, so he’d been able to get the best fabric he could find instead of a cheap knockoff.

 

“Well, my brother bet me two hundred dollars I wouldn’t make the cut, and that would buy a whole lot of alcohol,” he said, but when they didn’t laugh, he shifted awkwardly and quickly kept talking. “But it _would_ be nice to have my own shop to sell new stuff. I’m really tired of prom dresses.”

 

Tim leaned over and murmured something to Bela as they studied the woven cords of fabric that crisscrossed at the shoulders and back of the dress. Marina was writing something down, the camera was focused right on him, and the silence was stifling; he was waiting for the ‘thanks but no thanks’ or the ‘we don’t bring mechanics that run over garments onto fashion shows’ or something of the sort.

 

Tim straightened up and looked at Dean with a smile. “You know, you’ve got some real talent here. And without any formal training on your application, either. Your point of view is very unique,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help but straighten up a little and smile, because really? How often do normal people get a compliment like that from Tim Gunn? Show or no show, he could go home happy now. Maybe have the quote done in needlepoint and framed.

 

“Thank you,” he managed, though that felt weak in comparison to the compliment. Marina looked at Tim, and they seemed to manage to have a conversation without a single word actually being spoken before Tim looked back at Dean.

 

“Congratulations. We’d like to move you on to the last phase of auditions,” he said, and for a moment Dean stood shock still, because he was still processing what he’d heard. It was impossible. Maybe this was a candid camera thing, maybe it was all a set up by Sam to get back at him for the whole Nair in the shampoo bottle debacle.

 

But as far as he knew, Sam couldn’t afford to pay Tim Gunn off for a prank.

 

“Really?” he said, his heart thudding in his chest as Tim nodded and handed his garments back to him.

 

“Really. We’d like to see more,” he explained, taking a paper from Marina and holding it out. “We’d like you to make a biography video, between 2 and 3 minutes long. Show us your workspace, your family, your inspiration, and some more of your work, and tell us why we should bring you out to New York. The email address to send it to is on here, and you’ve got two weeks to turn it in.”

 

Dean had just finished haphazardly stuffing the garments back into the garment bag, and he took the paper, trying to keep his hands steady as he glanced it over.

 

“Wow. This is…thank you. I really can’t thank you enough,” he said, stopping to shake all their hands before picking up his portfolio and heading for the door. He nearly tripped over his own garment bag as he left the room, feeling lightheaded and a little giddy, like those teenage girls acted on prom night.

 

He was in the last phase of auditions. They actually _liked_ him. _Tim Gunn_ liked his work. It seemed fantastical, like he imagined the whole thing, but the instruction paper for the video was still clutched tight in his hand.

 

Jo was waiting not far away, and she lit up when she saw him. “I’m guessing it went well?” she asked, and Dean nodded, still feeling dumbstruck.

 

“Yeah. I’m in the last round. They actually liked it,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe his own words. She grinned at him.

 

“I had a feeling they would. Who’s in there, anyway?”

 

“Tim, one of the producers, and Bela,” he said, and Jo frowned.

 

“Wait, Bela as in ‘my mom wanted to call the network and chew them out for letting such a manipulative bitch win the whole thing’ Bela?”

 

“That’d be the one,” Dean asked, expecting her to wince or something, because Bela’s reputation definitely preceded her- but instead, Jo squared her shoulders with a smirk.

 

“This’ll be fun. Hopefully I’ll see you in New York,” she said, and Dean hesitated a moment.

 

“Want me to stay till they call you? I don’t mind.”

 

“No, go on, get outta here. Waiting around is a bitch,” she said, and Dean gave her a sincere ‘good luck’ before he headed for the door. He really did hope that she would get through to the show- she was spunky. She was the kind of girl who would meet a contestant like Bela and make them eat their own words the whole season.

 

Obviously his giddiness was showing as he made his way past the line to the exit, because he got more than a few scowls and a few half-hearted congratulations. He was running on autopilot up until he stepped out into the afternoon heat, when he realized that he sort of needed to put his portfolio away and get his keys out if he planned to actually drive home.

 

But first, he was going to call Sam and gloat.

 

*~~~~~~*

 

Life went back to normal after that. Dean made the video with the help of Garth, a scrawny coworker who nonetheless was a damn good mechanic, and once he sent it off he tried to forget about it. He didn’t want to stress over something so unlikely, so farfetched; he didn’t even tell his boss at the shop about it. Bobby would have gotten a kick out of the idea of Dean auditioning for some TV show. He would never hear the end of it.

 

It got easier to forget about it as the weeks passed with no word. By the middle of May he’d completely written it off, getting back into the rhythm of working at the shop in the morning and spending the afternoon working on a few graduation party gowns he’d been commissioned to do. He figured the whole thing would be a nice story to tell- remember that time when Tim Gunn said I had real talent? Yeah, that was a great time.

 

So when his cell phone rang while he was on a creeper under the front end of a Mitsubishi, he wasn’t expecting anything exciting. He flipped it open and tucked the phone against his head, continuing to work even as he said a casual ‘hello?’ over the sound of a motor sputtering in the next bay.

 

“Hello, is this Dean Winchester?” an unfamiliar voice asked, and Dean paused, pulling his hands out of the car’s guts and actually paying attention. If this was a sales call, he was going to be royally pissed.

 

“Yeah, that’s me. Who are _you_?” he shot back.

 

“This is Marina Hatcher, executive producer of All Star Designer. We’d like to invite you out to New York.”

 

Dean nearly hit his head on the underside of the car. “What?” he said, already shoving himself out from under the car, sitting up on the creeper and leaning back against the front bumper. He didn’t hear that correctly. He couldn’t have.

 

“You’ve made the final cut. We’d like you to come compete in New York,” Marina said, and Dean’s mind raced, trying to catch up with what he’d just heard.

 

They wanted him on the show. They wanted him to come to New York and compete on the show. He took a moment to pinch himself, knowing it was cliché, but this would be one hell of a cruel dream for his subconscious to dredge up.

 

“Wow. I, uh…sure. Yeah. I can do that,” he said, the words coming out clumsy and stilted. Marina was all business, though; she was probably used to reactions that were less stupefied and more unbridled joy. She was probably grateful he didn’t scream into the phone or something.

 

“Glad to hear it. We start filming on the 30th, so I’m going to have you fly in on the 29th. I’ll email you your plane ticket and a guide on what to pack,” she said, and he suddenly realized that she meant the 29th of _this_ month. Not next month or the month after.

 

“That’s like…two weeks,” he said, a little panicked as he wondered how he was going to explain this to Bobby, if he had enough in his bank account to prepay a few months’ rent, and hell, maybe he should pick up some new jeans too.

 

“Right. We like to get things moving in the summer when Brighton’s School of Design is on the limited summer courses,” Marina explained. “Everything will be in the email, alright? Have a look over it and email me back if you have any questions.”

 

Garth was giving Dean a strange look, probably because Dean was equal parts terrified and elated, and it probably made for an interesting expression on his face as they said their goodbyes and hung up. He stared at the phone, replaying the whole conversation in his head, wondering if _this_ part was some kind of prank- but no, Sam would’ve pulled this a lot sooner, not over a month later.

 

“Dean, you okay?” Garth asked, and he looked a little concerned now. Dean nodded, taking a deep breath.

 

“I’m okay. I’m good,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as Garth. “I made it on the show.”

 

“The show?”

 

It was beginning to set in, the excitement taking over as the disbelief left him. “All Star Designer. They just called. They want me on the show.”

 

“Man, that’s great! I love that show!” Garth said, pulling Dean into an exuberant hug like he did for nearly every good thing that happened in their lives. One time he hugged Dean for changing a light bulb. Seriously.

 

Now he needed to tell Bobby. And his mother. And Sam, too, because he wanted that two hundred dollars, thank you very much. And he needed to finish all his current commissions before he left. He had two weeks to press the pause button on real life before he had to fly out to New York. He had so much shit to do it wasn’t even funny, and it all got dumped on his shoulders at once.

 

The worst part was the idea of a plane ticket, though. Maybe he could convince them to let him drive there.

 

*~~~~~~*

 

They didn’t let him drive.

 

When he stepped off the plane and onto solid ground, he still felt woozy and sick and not ready for any kind of competition. It was only the third time in his life he’d been on an airplane, and that was three times too many. He sat down for a few minutes just to get his bearings before he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer; he headed for the baggage claim, where a driver was supposed to meet him. And also a camera crew.

 

They didn’t sugar coat things in the guidelines they sent out. They pretty much wrote that other than a few hours in the middle of the night and the bathrooms, you were going to be on camera 24-7 for the entire time you were there. The cameras stayed till you were asleep, and were back before your alarm even went off.

 

He wasn’t looking forward to that part.

 

He was, however, looking forward to meeting the other designers who had made it onto the show. They refused to give him names or anything, and though he knew it was a long shot, he seriously hoped Jo had made it. Then there would be at least one guaranteed tolerable person here with him.

 

Maybe Georgia even made it. Sixth time’s the charm, right?

 

Probably not.

 

The moment he stepped through the security checkpoint, he spotted a blonde guy in a suit and slicked back hair holding up a card with his last name written in large block letters- as if he wouldn’t notice the guy with him holding a giant camera. He steeled his will and took a deep breath, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder as he walked over to them.

 

“Dean Winchester?” the man asked, and Dean nodded, eyeing the camera with trepidation. The cameraman smiled and gave a half wave, the top of his head maybe reaching Dean’s collarbone. He was a small guy wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, his black hair styled into a Mohawk- pretty much the exact opposite of sign guy.

 

“That’s me.”

 

“Don’t worry, it’s not on yet. I need to get you miked up,” the cameraman said as he set the camera down gingerly. He dug into his bag and pulled out a small black box and a ton of wire- a microphone. He hadn’t thought about that. He would have to wear one of these things for weeks. Oh joy.

 

Dean’s first foray with the TV experience was to have a total stranger stick his hand down the back of his jeans, then shove a hand under his shirt to hook up the battery pack, run the wire, and clip the microphone to the collar of his shirt. He was tempted to make some smart-ass comment about the guy not even buying him dinner first, but the suited man made his little obviously pre-planned speech as the cameraman worked.

 

“I’m your driver, Dave. We’ll get your suitcase, then Nile here will get a shot of you walking out of the airport to the car, then you’ll be camera free till we get to Saturn Apartments. Sound good?” he asked, and while it didn’t sound particularly _good_ , Dean nodded anyway- at least the camera wouldn’t be on the whole ride.

 

“Just pretend the camera isn’t here and you’ll be golden. Only time you should ever look at the camera is in the confessional room,” Nile said as he picked the camera back up.

 

It was a step beyond weird to have a camera pointed at him as he went to the baggage claim and retrieved his suitcase from the belt. It didn’t help that the camera was grabbing attention, so not only was he on camera, but people were staring and trying to figure out who he was despite the fact that he wasn’t anyone yet. Dean felt a whole lot better once they’d sat down in the back of the long black car, Nile fiddling with his camera beside him.

 

He tried to ask questions about the apartments and what they would be doing tonight, but Nile was tight lipped; he was evidently strictly forbidden to do anything more than discuss the weather with him, pretty much. Though he did find out that Nile had been a camera operator for the show since season three, which meant that he was definitely going to be looking for the Hawaiian shirt if he had any questions he thought the guy was actually allowed to answer.

 

It wasn’t a boring ride, conversation or not; Dean watched out the window as they drove into the heart of the city, glass and steel buildings reaching up to the sky on either side of the street and every conceivable type of person walking the sidewalks. It seemed like the cab drivers had their own language made entirely out of honking and creative maneuvering. Dean was happy now that he didn’t drive Baby up here- the cramped city streets and crazy drivers would have given him an aneurism.

 

They pulled to a stop beside a tall modern looking building, and Nile got out first, hoisting the camera back onto his shoulder as Dean got out and hauled his suitcase out of the trunk. He gave Nile a look, and the man shook his head.

 

“Not filming again yet. You’ve gotta go through the search and sign your last contracts,” he said, and Dean sighed- he’d printed and signed and scanned what seemed like dozens of documents in the past two weeks. Releases, rules agreements, agreeing not to sue them for anything- they had it all covered.

 

David led him inside and to a conference room, where two production assistants- PA’s, they were called- dragged his suitcase onto the table and started going through everything in it. He’d read the list carefully of things that weren’t permitted, so all he really had were his clothes and his basic sewing kit- though he did feel a pang of regret when after he signed the last contract, they told him to hand his phone over.

 

No phones, no iPods, no magazines, no books- they weren’t allowed to have anything that could connect to the outside world or that could keep them entertained enough to ignore their fellow competitors. After all, they wouldn’t have nearly as much drama if everyone was off in corners reading or had headphones stuffed in their ears.

 

He just hoped they let him call home occasionally. They said use of the designer team cell phone was on a case-by-case basis, and that they probably wouldn’t be allowed any calls at all for the first five weeks or so. They would be completely isolated.

 

He was beginning to understand why so many people seemed to lose it more and more as the competition went on.

 

“Alright, everything looks good!” one of the PAs declared, grabbing a key from a nearby table and holding it out. “You’re in 15B, and you’ll have two roommates to start with. One is already up there, so go ahead and get settled, and we’ll get in touch once you’re all here!”

 

She was far too cheerful about this. Dean thanked her and took the key, lifting his suitcase off the table and back onto the floor- and when he left the conference room, Nile was waiting in the lobby, the red light on his camera on.

 

Don’t look at the camera. Right. He was already screwing up again.

 

He made his way to the elevator, Nile following alongside him as he stepped inside; he would never be used to just standing there, ignoring a camera that was pointed right at him, as if waiting for him to fall on his face. Which would end up getting aired if it happened, he had no doubt. Hell, last season a girl had an allergy attack and got shuttled off to the hospital, and the cameras covered a disturbing amount of that debacle. They thrived on pain and tears, he was sure of it.

 

The hallway of the fifteenth floor was dimly lit, with smooth white tile floors and light green walls. The plaque on the wall across from the elevator directed him to the right for his room, which was the second to last apartment from the end of the hall.

 

He stopped for a moment, staring at the silver ‘15B’ hanging on the door; he was about to meet one of the people he’d be stuck here with for weeks. Maybe months, if both of them lasted that long. He could practically feel the camera lens at his shoulder as he turned the key and opened the door.

 

The apartment already looked nice at first glance, definitely nicer than his crappy one bedroom place back in Lawrence. To the right of the door there was a small kitchen with all the appliances, and past that a ‘living room’ space with two couches and a coffee table. The stand where the TV would normally sit was conspicuously empty, but that was no surprise. The floor was a light colored laminate wood, which was a nice contrast to the white walls with varying shades and sizes of green stripes running horizontally. Not overpowering, just a nice splash of color.

 

God, even his inner monologues sounded like designer talk already.

 

“Hello?” he called out, not sure if his roommate was in the bedroom to the right or the left, but he didn’t have to wonder for long. The man who emerged from the right bedroom was slender, with messy dark brown hair, slight stubble, and striking blue eyes, the kind of eyes that managed to make Dean do a double take. He was wearing dark pants and a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off slightly tan skin and lean muscles.

 

Okay, Dean normally leaned more toward the feminine side of potential romance, but it felt like an anvil just got dropped on the ‘gay’ end of his Kinsey Scale.

 

“Sorry, I was unpacking,” the guy said, his voice lower and rougher than Dean expected. He held out his hand, and Dean shook it firmly.

 

“No problem. Dean Winchester,” he said, the camera hovering just behind him before Nile scooted over to get a good angle of both of them.

 

“Castiel Novak.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Castiel, huh?” he said, and the man chuckled and shook his head.

 

“I know, I know. You don’t even have to say it,” he said, and Dean left it alone for now, figuring that the poor guy probably got a lot of nosey questions about the weird name.  “Both the bedrooms have two beds. You can wait till our third gets here to decide on a room, if you want.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. Just gonna be dumping my clothes into a drawer anyway,” he pointed out, earning a strange look from Castiel, which didn’t surprise him- after all, the guy looked like a walking menswear advertisement. The idea of just throwing a bunch of jeans and t-shirts into a suitcase and calling it good would probably horrify the poor guy.

 

Turned out, though, they didn’t have long to wait. The door swung open, nearly hitting Dean’s suitcase, and at first Dean was tempted to tell the guy he had the wrong apartment. He was pretty sure an Asian kid that didn’t look a day over 18 wasn’t here for All Star Designer, because the age limit was 21.

 

“Hi!” the kid said with a grin, dragging his suitcase in and kicking the door shut behind him. “You’re my roommates, huh?”

 

“Guess so,” Dean said, shaking the kid’s hand; he had a surprisingly firm grip. “Dean Winchester.”

 

“Castiel Novak,” Castiel said, reaching past Dean to shake their roommate’s hand.

 

“Kevin Tran,” the kid said, dropping his duffel bag on the floor. Dean felt a little better now- sure, the kid was in a button-up too, but it was untucked and wrinkled from travel, and he was wearing jeans with it. Dean didn’t feel like such a slob anymore.

 

“Are you seriously 21?” he asked, not able to help but wonder, and Kevin rolled his eyes- evidently he’d expected the question. Or had been dreading it. Either way.

 

“Turned 21 last week. Just in time,” he said, just as there was the soft sound of an envelope sliding under the door. Kevin turned around and picked it up, the ‘All Star Designer’ logo standing out in gold on the front, and he nearly tore the envelope in his haste to get it open.  
  
“Designers,” he read, eyes skimming the letter with unbridled excitement. “Welcome to the Saturn Apartments. Please get settled in and then join Tim and Gabriel on the roof for a toast to our season 7 competitors.”

 

That certainly moved things along. Kevin offered to share a room with Dean, and they made short work of getting unpacked before meeting Castiel in the living room. Dean was getting more anxious by the second to meet the designers he’d be competing against, and it was a great distraction from the constant hovering presence of the camera.

 

“Where are you guys from?” Kevin asked as they made their way to the elevator.

 

“Kansas,” Dean said, and Kevin winced.

 

“Oh man. That’s, uh…kind of the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?” he asked and Dean laughed and shrugged.

 

“Guess so, but let me tell you, the Midwest has some amazing pie and damn good whiskey. I’m not suffering,” he said as the three of them got into the elevator and Nile followed close with his camera. Dean punched the button for the roof, and then raised an eyebrow at Castiel.

 

“I’m from here. New York City,” Castiel finally said, still standing stiff; every time he got pulled into conversation, he just seemed to be that much more awkward about it. Like he wasn’t used to talking to people in the first place. But hey, all designers were kind of strange people, in his experience.

 

“I’m from Michigan. Step above Kansas, I think, but a few notches below New York City,” Kevin said with a shrug, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as the elevator rose. “Miss my girlfriend already, though.”

 

Dean snorted. “You aren’t gonna last long if you’re already pining over it,” he pointed out, and Kevin elbowed him.

 

“I’ll last longer than you, for sure,” he said playfully, and Dean smirked.

 

“We betting on that?”

 

“Isn’t it a little premature to bet before you see his work?” Castiel asked, a hint of amusement to his tone. The elevator door slid open, and Castiel led the way to the roof access door as Kevin gave Dean a mischievous look.

 

“I’ll bet the tab on an evening at a bar. I stay longer on the show, you cover my tab. You stay longer, and I’ll pick yours up.”

 

“Not sure you could afford my tab for one night of drinking.”

 

“Please, I went to design school. I’ve seen 90 pound girls run up a tab that would kill a moose.”

 

“A moose? Really, Kevin?”

 

Their banter had to stop when they stepped onto the roof, but that wasn’t a bad thing- because the view was incredible. The sun was setting, casting the skyscrapers in a beautiful orange and yellow glow, slowly dipping into silhouette. He was used to sunsets where you could see miles in every direction, but this had its own kind of beauty, he had to admit.

 

The view had to wait, though- because someone tackled him in a tight hug, and he nearly fell over before he realized who it was.

 

“Jo! You made it!” he said, returning the hug. That was a huge relief; Kevin seemed cool, and now Jo was here, and Castiel…well, he was still trying to figure out Castiel, but the guy didn’t seem half bad. Just…strange.

 

“Knew I’d see you here,” Jo said with a smile, and then she was grabbing him by the arm and dragging him over to two women standing by the ledge of the roof. “Dean, these are my awesome roommates. This is Jody, and that’s Charlie. Girls, this is Dean,” she said, gesturing to the brunette, then the redhead.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Charlie said, and her smile was infectious- he found himself smiling in return already. “So, did you get good roomies, or did you get saddled with old and creepy over there?”

 

“Old and creepy?” Dean repeated, following her gaze to where a balding man in a perfectly pressed black suit was standing next to Tim. And talking his ear off, by the looks of it. “Nah, I got lucky. I got Kevin and Castiel. They seem tolerable,” he said, and he was only half joking, because there was a good chance the longer they were here the less tolerable people would be.

 

“Which ones are they?” Jody asked, and Dean pointed them out. Kevin was talking to a knockout of a woman with long, curly brown hair and tanned skin who was probably ten years older than him, and Castiel was being his awkward self, standing next to a tall blonde man in a deep V-neck shirt; the blonde seemed to be doing all the talking.

 

“Dude, if I weren’t skewed the other way, I would totally be hitting on that,” Charlie said as she eyed Castiel, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“Kind of a weird guy. Socially awkward, I guess.”

 

“Then he’s probably some kind of genius that will kick all of our asses on this,” Jody pointed out, and Dean wondered for a moment- awkward genius, or awkward normal guy who was brought on the show because he was awkward? They’d be finding out really soon, that was for sure.

 

The door to the roof opened again, and this time it was a familiar face- Gabriel Milton, actor, fashion designer, and host of All Star Designer for all 6 seasons so far. Dean already had three words in mind to describe him by the end of the first episode: self-absorbed dick. Not that he was going to come out and say it.

 

“Designers, huddle up!” Gabriel said, and PAs darted in from seemingly nowhere and lined them up carefully, making sure the shorter designers were in front. Dean was seriously temped to prop an elbow on Kevin’s head while they listened.

 

“Congrats on making it onto season seven,” Gabriel said, his voice just as dramatic and ridiculous as it sounded on the TV with the full mood music going. “I’m sure you know Tim Gunn. And I’m sure you know me. And you’ll definitely get to know each other _really_ well.”

 

“Is that optional?” a voice purred from the end of the front line, coming from a pale woman with dark hair that fell in loose waves around her face. He could already tell just from three words and the sassy tone that she was a whole lot of personality in a tiny body.

 

“Well, I said you’ll get to know them, but you’re not required to like them,” Gabriel pointed out, pulling the champagne out of the silver bucket of ice. “Take the time to relax and have a drink now, designers, because starting tomorrow you won’t remember what the word relax even means,” he continued, and then he popped the cork free. Dean took the moment to study the competitors he hadn’t met yet; other than the blonde dude in the V-neck and the two hot girls, there was creepy old dude, a tall girl who looked more like the girl next door type with straight brown hair half pulled back, and a brick wall of a guy with a brownish blonde beard and a driving cap on his head.

 

They definitely had a good mix of unique looking people here, and they were probably all talented in their own way- and a good amount of them were probably like Kevin, with years of designing school behind them.

 

Someone shoved a champagne glass into Dean’s hand, and Tim called for a toast, but the whole time he lifted his glass he only had one thought on his mind:

 

He was _so_ going to get kicked off the first week.

 


	2. At Your Convenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first challenge is all about innovation. Also, beer and condoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> \- Not all the details of the runway show are the same as compared to Project Runway. Since 99% of this fic is third person limited, I chose to have all designers present for judging so we aren't left with gaps in the narrative while the 'safe' designers wait in a boring room.  
> \- I found examples of approximately what each designers' creation will look like for each challenge, and those pictures are linked at the end of each chapter. Model, hair, and makeup are not the same in any case, the picture is just meant to represent the garment they make. Sometimes the example picture will be a well made version of the poorly made garment made by the designer, and you can imagine the bad hems and puckering seams. Ignore the pictures entirely if you want to, they're just there for those who wish to supplement the descriptions in the chapter.  
> \- I am not a fashion expert- I wear doge t-shirts and jeans. Therefore, I am going by what I believe each judge would like and dislike about the garment. My own opinion is often going to differ from said judges, and yours might as well. I do my best. <3
> 
> Also, it is four in the morning as I finish editing this, so forgive anything I may have missed! <3

They really weren’t kidding; the first thing Dean saw when he opened his eyes to shut off his alarm was the lens of a camera.

 

He let out a string of curses that would definitely be censored if it made it to the air, tempted to shove the camera away, but he managed to restrain himself and smacked the alarm instead. The red numbers read 5:00am, and he groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow.

 

“Oh my god, is it really five in the morning?” he heard Kevin grumble from the other bed, and Dean didn’t bother to answer. He didn’t answer questions at five in the morning.

 

He eventually managed to drag himself out of bed, then grabbed some random clothes from the drawer and went into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him. This was the only place the cameras couldn’t follow them; not that they wouldn’t. He was sure they would be in here right now if they were allowed.

 

He was pretty much a zombie as he pulled his clothes on and made sure his hair wasn’t doing anything absolutely crazy. This early he wasn’t aiming for perfect, just ‘good enough’, and once he finished he relinquished the bathroom to an equally zombie-fied Kevin.

 

Somehow, inexplicably, Castiel was already up and fully dressed in dark grey pants and a matching vest over a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he sipped at a cup of coffee. Dean sort of grunted a greeting, and Castiel replied by tipping his cup toward the coffee machine, where there was still plenty of hot coffee waiting.

 

“Thanks,” Dean managed as he grabbed a cup and poured some for himself. He didn’t even wait on it to cool before he took a swallow and sighed. Yesterday he felt like he needed to fill all the silences when the camera was pointed at him, but right now he really could not have cared less.

 

“There was a note,” Castiel said, holding up a blue card with the All Star Designer logo on one side. “We’re to meet in the lobby at six.”

 

“Joy.”

 

Castiel nearly laughed, more of an amused snort, and Dean wondered what it would take to get the guy to actually laugh. Or actually smile, for that matter, because he knew when someone was faking a smile, and that was all he’d seen Castiel do since he’d met the guy.

 

When Kevin joined them they finally got some semblance of motivation, which ended in bowls of cereal for all three of them. None of them felt the need to try and have a conversation, which suited Dean just fine, and at fifteen till six they headed down to the lobby of the building.

 

The only other people there were the other three guys in the equally split competition, and introductions were done all around- evidently ‘old and creepy’ from yesterday was Zachariah, the guy who only owned ridiculously deep cut V-necks was Balthazar, and the guy with the beard was Benny. Dean immediately knew he would like Benny best; the guy was pleasant and laid back, with a thick Louisiana accent that he didn’t even try to cover up.

 

“I mainly do my work in Europe. More avant-garde,” Balthazar was saying to Kevin, practically reeking of smarmy British arrogance. Of course, Zachariah wasn’t much better.

 

“I own a store down in Philadelphia,” the older man said, and then he proceeded to study Dean from head to toe with disdain. “Dare I ask what you specialize in?”

 

“Oh, I deal mostly in the classics. I’m handy on a V8 327 4 barrel engine,” he replied with a smirk, just to see the look on the guy’s face. It didn’t disappoint, and he heard Kevin trying not to laugh, too.

 

“I didn’t realize this was ‘All Star Mechanic’.”

 

“Yeah, they’re just letting anyone in these days,” Dean said, and Zachariah scoffed and turned away to greet Charlie and her roommates as they arrived.

 

Dean didn’t need to explain himself to any of these people, or defend himself from their underestimations of him when they hadn’t even seen his work yet. As far as he was concerned, no one had gotten through that audition by being a shitty designer. Hell, he was pretty convinced that Kevin was probably some kind of prodigy and going to kick all their asses on the runway.

 

“Good morning!” Jo said as she threw an arm around Dean’s shoulders with a bright smile. “You guys look so happy today,” she joked, and Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“How are you even smiling this early? Go away,” he muttered, and she laughed and poked his nose.

 

“Cheer up. Our first challenge is today, gotta be awake for that.”

 

“Says who?”

 

“Says me,” Tim said from the glass doors, about the same time as the last three contestants stepped out of the elevator. Aside from Jo, everyone looked about as equally thrilled to be up at six in the morning. Tim was his usual self, clothes impeccable and not looking at all like he’d just gotten out of bed.

 

“Good morning designers!” he said, and he received some muttered greetings in return. He laughed. “Try to wake up. We’re going to take a field trip to get to your first challenge.”

 

Tim turned and led the way outside, where two white vans waited at the curb. The cameramen immediately went for the front passenger seats, so Dean followed Kevin and Benny to the back of one of the vans, climbing inside and into the backseat with them. Castiel, Jo, and Jody got into the other seat, and the van was moving even before they pulled the door all the way shut.

 

“Watch, they’re going to take us to a lumber yard. We’ll be making cocktail dresses out of two by fours,” Jo said with a laugh, and Dean saw Castiel wince just at the thought.

 

“Not unless the models have signed waivers on splinters,” Dean pointed out, watching out the window as they drove farther into the city center. Even this early the streets were busy and the sidewalks full of people; it probably looked like this 24-7.  He was so used to Kansas, where the only people up before sunrise were the people milking cows.

 

They didn’t drive very long. The vans pulled over and everyone piled out, and the production assistants driving the vans told them where to stand and what direction to face; because everything had to be just so, evidently. It was these kind of things you missed just from watching the show as a viewer.

 

He didn’t see anything that looked like a challenge, though. There were a bunch of random stores, and Tim was right here, but they were clueless. Tim clapped his hands together and waited until the cameras got in position to start speaking.

 

“Alright, designers,” he started, eyes moving across the group and making eye contact with just about everyone. His presence was warm from the start, the kind of person who you knew from the first moment would be a friend. “One of the most important qualities of a designer is innovation. An all star designer must be able to use novel techniques, and lead the way. The best designers are risk takers. So, your first challenge will be all about risk taking and innovation. That said, this store right here is where you will find the materials for your garment.”

 

Tim gestured behind him, and Dean frowned, because the only thing behind him was a big convenience store. And that couldn’t be…

 

Oh. It totally was.

 

They were making clothes from stuff out of a _convenience store_.

 

“You’ve got to be joking,” he heard Balthazar say, and he wasn’t alone- there were matching cries of disbelief from about half the group, while the other half was silently panicking. Like Dean. Hell, the only thing he ever got from convenience stores was awful beer and toilet paper. Neither of those could make a decent looking garment. Except for the football day beer can helmet Garth had once thrown together, and that was a travesty.

 

Then again, that was Garth. Maybe…

 

“You will have fifty dollars to spend, and 20 minutes to shop. And I must warn you, the judges are not fond of outfits that contain a lot of fabric-like material. So if you’re going to use garbage bags or tablecloths, the onus is on you to blow their socks off,” Tim explained.

 

“This is a joke,” Zachariah muttered as Tim handed out the envelopes containing their money. Dean was busy trying to remember everything that was in a normal convenience store that he could use to his advantage, but he didn’t get much time to think; the show evidently didn’t like to leave them much planning time on the unconventional materials challenge.

 

“Your 20 minutes starts…now,” Tim said, and Dean nearly got knocked over by one of the girls as she ran past him and into the store. He followed her in, and watched as she and Zachariah went straight for the garbage bags.

 

Idiots.

 

Dean decided he had to take a risk. Sure, he could pick up something easier to work with, but that wouldn’t get him any brownie points with the judges; instead, he went straight for the refrigerated cases in the back and started lifting out cases of beer, counting in his head as he stacked them up.

 

He looked up when he saw someone else at the refrigerated doors; it was Castiel, who looked deep in thought as he began to collect plastic wrapped sets of bottled water. He was tempted to ask Castiel if he was going to send his model down the runway in a see-thru dress, but they didn’t have time for quips right now. Instead, he looked at his stack of beer, had a thought, and went to the section of limited hardware items.

 

He emptied the entire rack of zip ties, though he paused when he heard an argument going on. It wasn’t any of the contestants- no, one of the production assistants was standing by the counter, arguing with Tim as Balthazar stood beside them looking quite satisfied with himself.

 

“We can’t air that! He can’t buy those!” the production assistant said, her voice shrill as she pointed at the counter. Dean laughed when he realized what it was- Balthazar had dozens of value boxes of condoms stacked up on the counter. The poor clerk had her hands hovering over the register, not sure whether or not to ring him up.

 

“He’s within the rules of the challenge. We made no caveats for behind the counter items and he is within budget,” Tim pointed out, and the production assistant fumed before turning her attention to Balthazar.

 

“You likely won’t be eligible to win the challenge if you use those, you know that,” she snapped, and Balthazar smirked.

 

“Yes, but when else will I have the chance to make a dress out of condoms on national TV?”

 

Okay, maybe Dean liked the guy a little better now.

 

Dean gathered up the zip ties and cases of beer and lugged everything up to the counter, and Tim raised an eyebrow at him as the clerk rung everything up.

 

“Are the beverages for you, or for the garment?” he asked, and Dean laughed.

 

“Probably both, depending on how this goes.”

 

His total came up to just over 48 dollars, and he paid and gathered his things, waiting by the door for the other designers to finish. The nice thing about checking out second was that he got a chance to see what everyone else bought.

 

Castiel had spent his entire budget on bottled water. In fact, there were so many cases of it that once Benny had checked out with two bags full of newspapers, he helped Castiel move all the bottled water to the door; otherwise it may have taken quite a few trips. Kevin and Jody were right behind them, Kevin with magazines and Jody with toilet paper and saran wrap.

 

That…was a little scary.

 

The three girls that Dean hadn’t gotten to meet yet were the next in line, and he asked Benny their names as they checked out- Meg, a petite brunette, had boxes and boxes of teabags and coffee, Ruby had garbage bags but actually looked rather confident about it, and Sarah had a ton of plastic bags and miscellaneous crap.

 

Zachariah was the other person with garbage bags, but he didn’t look confident about it- he looked frustrated and angry, most of all. Charlie and Jo got to the counter just before Tim yelled time; Charlie had filled bags and bags with all kinds of candy, mostly Skittles. Jo, meanwhile, had emptied the store of playing cards, which now that Dean thought about it, could look really cool if she constructed it right.

 

Tim made sure everyone was ready to go, and they headed back to the vans, piling the materials in the back- once again, Benny helped Castiel with his materials, and Castiel actually smiled- _really_ smiled- and thanked him. And that smile, okay- it may have made Dean’s heart do a little skip.

 

He couldn’t help it. The guy was weird, but he _was_ hot.

 

Though he wasn’t sure what Castiel was going to do with a bunch of clear water bottles. The guy either had a plan, or he was grasping at straws trying to be unique, and it was impossible to tell the difference just by looking at him.

 

“I hope they’ve got tough sewing machines, because I’ve gotta get cardboard through ‘em,” Jo sad with a laugh, and Dean remember the boxes and boxes of playing cards she’d stacked on the counter.

 

“I’m gonna laugh if you break a machine on day one,” he teased, earning a smack on the shoulder for it.

 

“Did you guys see Zachariah buying garbage bags? That’s not gonna go well,” Kevin pointed out with a laugh. Dean glanced at Castiel, but it seemed like he wasn’t really listening to the conversation going on; he was staring out the window with his chin propped on his hand, probably thinking about what he was going to do for his garment. Dean probably should have been thinking about it, too, really.

 

They got to Brighton’s School of Design, and Tim led them up to the workroom. Each designer had a workspace with a large table, their sewing kit they brought, and a dress form, and on the table was a card with their model’s measurements on it.

 

“Your models have been assigned randomly,” Tim explained. “And I hope you bond well with them, because this season, there will be no changing models.”

 

Dean didn’t like the sound of that; he’d rarely had a chance to work with actual, professional models, being stuck in the Midwest, but he’d heard the horror stories. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with a total diva who he couldn’t stand to be around.

 

“Work quickly, designers. You have until midnight to finish this challenge,” Tim said, and there was a rush of disbelief through the room. Dean’s jaw dropped- till midnight, for this? Shit. Shit shit shit.

 

Tim left them to their work, and the PA announced that they were required to take a lunch break and a dinner break, and required to eat something at both breaks. Dean understood the rule; he’d heard about contestants in past seasons who skipped meals and ended up passing out. While that made for great TV drama, it was probably a liability.

 

He dragged his cases of beer to the sink and pulled up a chair, and moments later he found himself joined by Castiel- they both had to empty out all the containers they’d bought. It was a little easier to watch the water go down the drain than the beer, though.

 

“Sure you can’t save some of that?” Benny asked Dean with a chuckle, and Dean snorted.

 

“I wish.”

 

Dean watched for a moment as Castiel methodically emptied out the bottled water, set the cap aside in one pile, then peeled the label off and set it in another pile. “You have a plan for all that?” he asked, and Castiel thought for a moment.

 

“Not yet,” he said as he studied one of the caps. “I’ll have to experiment a little.”

 

“Better experiment fast. Only have till midnight.”

 

Castiel eyed the beer can in Dean’s hand. “Don’t work too fast. Cut aluminum is sharp,” he pointed out, and Dean grinned.

 

“I’m not gonna cut it.”

 

Both of them looked up when they heard muttering across the room, where Zachariah was trying to drape a garbage bag on his mannequin- unfortunately, garbage bags weren’t exactly built for Grecian draping, so it wasn’t going well for him, and he wasn’t taking it well, either.

 

It took way too long to get all the cans drained of beer, and now the whole room smelled like cheap beer- but it also smelled heavily of coffee and tea, with Meg having her entire workstation covered in teabags and coffee bags. All in all, the smells in the room were giving him a headache.

 

“Here, have some candy,” Charlie said from the table behind him as she scooted a bowl toward him. The bowl was full of the candy she’d taken out of the wrappers, and Dean definitely wasn’t turning that down, and grabbed a handful of candy.

 

“Thanks,” he said, studying a beer can before setting it upright on the floor. He slammed his boot down on it with a loud crunch, making Ruby jump from across the aisle where she was balling up pieces of garbage bags.  She shot him a dirty look, and he just shrugged, not really sorry about it.

 

The can ended up how he wanted it- a mostly flattened silver circle of aluminum with a hint of color along the outer edge. He set to work doing the same to the rest, smashing them one at a time into the shape that he needed.

 

It was quiet for a while after that, aside from the rustling and snapping sounds of their work. The cameras moved around the room, focusing on each of them in turn while people snuck over to Charlie’s station to steal candy every few minutes. Dean occasionally glanced up to see what the closest people to him were doing, and while Benny looked like he was making progress on his newspaper dress, Castiel’s workstation on Dean’s left still looked like a mess of plastic and caps. He didn’t look worried, though, just concentrating- and now that he was working, he was wearing glasses, which was unfairly attractive.

 

“I wonder what my model looks like,” Charlie said, pinning rows of candy wrappers together.

 

“Already planning to hit on her?” Dean asked, and Charlie grinned.

 

“Only if she’s really cute. I have a type, thank you very much,” she said. “What about you? Have a girl waiting at home? Or a boy?” she asked.

 

“Nah, just family. Well, except my brother, he’s out at Stanford.”

 

“Stanford? Serious business,” Charlie said, and Dean smiled.

 

“Yeah, he’s too smart for his own good. And they’d better not air that or he’ll never let me live it down,” he said, looking over at Benny, who had the workstation in front of him. “What about you?”

 

Benny smiled. “Got a girl at home. Andrea,” he said, obviously lost in thought about it. “Love of my life, brother. Doin’ this for her.”

 

“That’s so sweet,” Charlie said with a sigh, and then she grabbed a yardstick and leaned over her table to poke Castiel on the shoulder with it. “Got anybody waitin’ for you back home, Cas?” she asked, and Castiel stiffened, not taking his eyes off the plastic pieces in his hands.

 

“What I have is a lot of work to do, if you don’t mind,” he said, and Dean blinked in surprise.

 

“Fine, geez. Work away,” Charlie said, going back to the wrappers with a confused look.

 

Maybe Castiel was just one of those people who couldn’t talk and concentrate on work at the same time. Or maybe he was just an asshole.

 

Dean thought he had enough of the cans squashed down to aluminum circles now; he dumped the zip ties out on the table, grabbed a pair of crappy scissors so he didn’t ruin his good ones, and he set to work stabbing holes in the aluminum and threading zip ties through the aluminum discs. By the time Tim came in to meet with them, Dean realized he’d been working for hours stabbing holes in the aluminum and joining the cans together, and finishing seemed impossible.

 

“I’m going to just visit each of you and see how you’re doing,” Tim said, going to the nearest table first, which happened to be Benny’s. “Benny, how are you?”

 

“Doing well, brother,” Benny said as he held up another piece of his dress to the dress form; the bodice was really beginning to take shape. Tim looked at it for a few long moments before speaking.

 

“Well, it’s a good start. My concern is that it’s not enough,” he said, and Benny nodded.

 

“The skirt is all the drama. Not doin’ much up top so I don’t take away from the skirt,” he explained, and that seemed to satisfy Tim.

 

“Carry on, then,” he said, turning to Dean’s table and staring at the mess of crushed cans across it. “Dare I ask?”

 

“Well, I…I wish I had something really solid to show you, but this kind of isn’t going to come together till it…comes together,” Dean explained with a laugh, and Tim frowned.

 

“That concerns me. Are you good on time?”

 

“…maybe?”

 

That made Tim laugh. “Well, work hard. Stay on it, it looks…interesting,” he said, moving over to Castiel’s table. “Castiel. I can’t make sense of any of this. Care to explain?”

 

Castiel sighed, setting down the piece he was working on. “It’s…hard to explain. It’s a bit of a haphazard design. The caps are going to be used as detailing.”

 

“But the bottles are see through,” Tim said, and Castiel reached over for the stack of labels.

 

“The inside of the labels are white. I’m going to use them to create a white mini dress to go under the actual dress, but the structure is fairly thick. It will be appropriate. I promise,” he said, and Tim nodded.

 

“Well, you have a lot to do. I’ll leave you to it. Make it work,” he said, moving on again.

 

Dean couldn’t lend an ear to all the critiques, but he got the basics- Charlie, Kevin, Balthazar, and Meg were all on track for good designs, and Ruby was walking a thin line on her use of the materials. The only ones who really sounded like they were in trouble were Jody and Zachariah- Jody’s first attempt had fallen apart and she was starting from scratch. Meanwhile, Tim basically told Zachariah that his garbage bag gown just looked plain messy, and Zachariah responded by angrily throwing the whole thing aside.

 

Dean barely remembered to stop for lunch, and even then he ate as quickly as possible, shoveling food into his mouth so he could get back to work. The conversation consisted of him and Charlie wondering what was up with Castiel before they were both headed back into the workroom, even though Dean was aching all over from working all day. Normally he worked on cars half the day and did some sewing later- sewing for an entire day straight wasn’t something he was really used to.

 

It was nearly time for dinner breaks when Tim finally brought their models in for a fitting, and the moment Dean saw his come around to his table, he was ecstatic. She was a curvy blonde with long, curly hair and tanned skin, and she had that ‘girl next door’ look and a gorgeous smile.

 

“Hi! I’m Jessica,” she said. “You must be Dean, right?”

 

“Right,” Dean said, turning to look at the table. “I, uh…don’t have much to try on you right now, but hey, lets give it a try.”

 

“I knew what I was getting into when I signed up. Don’t worry,” Jessica said with a laugh, already starting to strip down. Dean’s friends were constantly asking him how he was around half naked girls all the time and didn’t hit on them- and he always gave them two reasons. One, half of his clients back home were teenage girls, and that was just not his thing. Or legal.

 

As for the professional models, this was their job. Just because their job happen to require less clothing and less modesty didn’t mean they weren’t deserving of the same respect as any other coworker.

 

He was a ladies’ man, but not a creep, thank you very much.

 

He took the piece he had ready and wrapped it around her top, using one hand to hold it in place and the other to jot notes down. He’d need another row vertically, and unless he wanted Jessica flashing her thong at the judges, he needed a whole lot more rows along the bottom.

 

God, he was never going to get done.

 

“Wow, look at that. Emi’s gonna have fun,” Jessica said, and Dean looked up and over her shoulder at where Castiel was fitting his model, a Japanese girl who had more of a boyish figure than Jessica- but she definitely had that ‘model’ look, curves or no curves. The mess of plastic had somehow become a mostly done dress, those pieces of plastic bottles shaped into a bodice and skirt. Castiel was measuring up and over one of his model’s shoulders, all business as he adjusted the dress on her.

 

“Yeah, too bad he’s kind of an asshole,” Dean muttered, and Jessica laughed.

 

“Making friends already?”

 

“Could be worse. I could be roomed with Zach over there,” Dean pointed out, nodding his head toward where Zachariah was tugging and jerking at the messy garbage bag dress on his model, obviously not concerned with treating her with any amount of care.

 

“Ew, yeah. Glad I got you,” Jessica said. “And I think Gilda is happy with her designer, too.”

 

Dean looked up to where Jessica was looking, and he wasn’t surprised to see Charlie flirting shamelessly with her model. Not that he could blame her; Gilda was adorable, tanned skin and long, curly honey brown hair. And she definitely didn’t look like she minded the flirting.

 

“You expecting some flirting too?” he joked, and Jessica rolled her eyes.

 

“Some of the magic is gone after you’ve been strapping beer cans on me while I’m in a thong,” she said, and Dean laughed, getting her out of the half-done garment.

 

“You’re free. Don’t worry, I’ll try to make it so it doesn’t fall off you halfway down the runway.”

 

“Yeah, you’d better.”

 

Some of the designers were still fitting their models when Tim returned to collect them, but Dean gave Jessica a half hug and was right back to his work. His fingers were aching and his back hurt, but he couldn’t slow down, not when the fitting had brought to light just how much work he had to do.

 

Everyone seemed to be working themselves up into a frenzy as the end of the day drew closer. Dean missed those days at work where the clock hands barely seemed to move at all, because right now, it seemed like every time he looked at the clock another hour had gone by. It wasn’t long before the minute hand was creeping up to midnight.

 

He didn’t want to stop working. He felt like he had so much left to do, like he’d never be ready for a runway tomorrow, but midnight was the deadline. Everyone put down their work and headed for the door, one of the PAs showing them the quickest path to walk back to the Saturn apartments.

 

It went without saying that all of them were dead tired. Nobody even considered staying up to chat or have a drink; Dean barely made it to his room and stripped down to his boxers before he collapsed into bed.

 

It felt like five minutes later when the alarm went off, and like yesterday, the camera was right there as he and Kevin woke up. They both half slept through showers and getting ready, though Kevin did put a bit more effort into it today, considering it was a runway day. Dean didn’t see the need to dress any fancier; after all, it wasn’t like he was the model.

 

Castiel, as usual, was up before them, but he actually looked tired today. He’d made coffee again, and Dean could have kissed him for it, because he wasn’t sure he’d even make it to the elevator without coffee. None of them bothered with breakfast today before heading downstairs.

 

Everyone met in the lobby and headed back to Brighton’s, and while there was little conversation on the way there, everyone kicked into high gear once they entered the workroom. Dean immediately set to work getting the bottom of his dress finished, because if he didn’t add more cans, Jessica would be giving the judges a very memorable show.

 

Jo cursed behind him, a playing card fluttering to the ground every few minutes, and Castiel was still adding to the strap on his gown; it was really taking shape, though, and impressively so. Dean didn’t take time to look at anyone else’s progress, though, because there was just no time; he was driving it down to the wire making sure the dress was a decent length.

 

It wasn’t long before Tim came in with the models, and Jessica was just as cheerful as she’d been yesterday.

 

“Alright, I think I can handle finishing this. Let’s get you through hair and makeup,” Dean said, leading her down to the salon room.

 

He explained as quick as he could to the stylist there what he wanted- a high ponytail, but not too tight. It wasn’t exactly a hard style, so he just stayed while they threw it together, taking her straight on to makeup, where he instructed them to do a clean look and a shiny lip gloss.

 

Confident that they could handle that, he returned to the workroom and finished the bottom edge of the dress, then tweaked the top a bit to try and make sure it would fit her snug. He found himself with a few minutes to spare, and he used it to grab a couple more cans and bend them carefully, zip-tying them together to make a bracelet.

 

By the time he was done with that, Jessica was back and Tim was giving them the ten-minute warning. It was chaos in the work room, people running back and forth from the sewing room, cursing and hand sewing last details- as it was, Dean was just finishing getting Jessica into the dress and tightening up the top when Tim returned to bring them to the runway.

 

There was no more he could do; he told Jessica to be careful while she waited and apologized for the aluminum probably being cold on her bare skin, and then PAs were leading the models away as Tim took the designers down to the runway and sat them down in the chairs.

 

The wait drove him crazy. They sat in those two rows of chairs by the runway, waiting while the lighting and cameras were all moved and adjusted, and all Dean could think about was the possibility of the dress just falling off Jessica as she walked down the runway. He thought he’d tightened it enough, but it would be just his luck to be the one to have his garment fall off and have his model finish her runway walk in just a thong.

 

It seemed like hours before the judges finally came in and took their seats, followed by Gabriel coming out onto the runway, in a loud shirt as usual. This one was bright purple and some god-awful print that Dean wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.

 

“Welcome to the runway, designers!” he announced, and a few of them bothered to return the greeting. Gabriel went right on, stepping aside so the judges could be seen.

 

“Time to introduce the people who hold your fate in their hands,” he said. “First, we have Naomi Prevot, Editor in Chief of Eve Magazine.”

 

“Hello, designers,” Naomi said, and Dean practically shivered. That lady gave him the creeps even through the TV, let alone in person.

 

“Next, we have Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency,” Gabriel said, and Crowley smiled that uncomfortable smile he always used.

 

“I’m expecting big things from all of you,” he said, adjusting his suit jacket and sitting back in his seat.

 

“Of course, there’s me. You all know me,” Gabriel said, puffing up his chest with the words. “And our guest judge this week is none other than Lenore Benson, actress and eco friendly designer.”

 

“Hi!” Lenore said with a friendly wave, and Dean thought he recognized her- maybe from a TV show? He couldn’t remember. And hey, his dress was made of cans. It was practically recycled, she should love it with her eco-stuff.

 

“And I’m sure you’re all dying to know just what you’re competing to win this season. And let me tell you, it’s the most valuable prize package we’ve offered since the very first season of this show,” Gabriel said, and Dean raised an eyebrow. He’d been so wrapped up in getting here and settling in and just working that he’d almost forgotten the end game here.

 

“First, you will receive $100,000 to start your own line, plus a year of representation through Top Designer Management Agency,” Gabriel said, and Dean let out a low whistle, because that was more money than he ever thought he’d have a chance of having in his bank account. Gabriel grinned and continued. “You will also receive a feature spread in Eve Magazine, and a sewing and design technology suite from Allen Sewing worth $50,000. And this year, we’re throwing in one extra perk.”

 

Jesus. As if that wasn’t enough.

 

“This year the winner will also receive a two week trip for two to explore Paris and attend the world famous Paris Fashion Week,” Gabriel finished, and Dean could practically feel the excitement among the designers at that one. Hell, Dean had never attended a fashion show outside of the Midwest; he couldn’t imagine what they were like in Paris.

 

“With all that said, let’s start the show!” Gabriel said, and he walked up the runway and took the steps down to the judges’ seats.

 

The lights brightened on the runway, the music started (much softer than it sounded on TV), and the first model appeared behind the white screen and struck a pose.

 

As soon as she came around the corner, Dean knew it was Benny’s outfit. She was a distinctive looking girl, pixie cut hair and all sharp angles, and the newspaper dress took advantage of her ridiculously tiny waist. There was a wide, dark newspaper belt around her waist, a strapless bodice, and somehow, Benny had gotten the newspaper skirt to hold an amazing circle-skirt structure. He’d have to ask him later how he did it, because that was impressive.

 

The next outfit wasn’t so impressive. Dean actually winced as Zachariah’s model turned the corner; it wasn’t worse than the crazy gown he’d started on then threw away, but it wasn’t any better, for sure. It looked like a garbage bag- the only signs of actual design were the shoulders, where a little shaping had been done. Bottom three, for sure.

 

She was followed by Balthazar’s model, and really, Dean was kind of sad the guy was told he couldn’t win. That man really did some amazing things with a bunch of condoms, flattened circles of condoms making up the bulk of the dress from neck to thigh, and then a fringe of condoms around the bottom. It was a little revolting, and a lot fascinating.

 

And the look on Naomi’s face was the best thing Dean had seen in weeks.

 

Sarah’s dress was a ridiculous mess. It looked like she’d tried to be voluminous and artful with the plastic bags, but it just ended up looking like an explosion of plastic. Jody’s was on the opposite extreme- her toilet paper dress had left the workroom looking sleek and structured, but it seemed like every step the model took did more and more damage to the dress. It was sad looking now, and it was probably a miracle it stayed on entirely.

 

Dean straightened up a little when his turned the corner. Thank god Jessica had a decent sized rack unlike some of the other models, because otherwise it would have surely fallen down by now; as it was, it seemed to have held up really well. She was a natural on the runway, and the aluminum shone under the lights, just hints of color around the edge of each crushed can.

 

The judges gave nothing away as they watched, but Dean was happy all the same. He let out a sigh of relief as Jessica left the runway. No major disasters on his first runway; he was thankful for that, more than he could say.

 

Meg’s model had to be uncomfortable. He’d heard her talking about how heavy and stifling hot the dress was, but it had good movement, considering how many small parts it was made of. Ruby’s dress followed, and at least she’d done something interesting with the trash bags, other than hanging it on the model and calling it a day; she’d crushed up pieces of bags to make a fluffy-like skirt, and used smooth pieces to form a bodice.

 

Castiel’s dress, well…he didn’t know if it was luck or genius, but that thing blew everyone else’s work out of the water, in Dean’s opinion, anyway. The pieces of plastic bottles were shaped into a wide skirt, the ribbed part of the bottles shaped to form a corset-like bodice, and the strap was a mix of plastic and bottle caps; and with the inside-out labels underneath, it was runway appropriate, too. Dean heard Benny tell Castiel it looked amazing, and he had to agree.

 

Jo’s came after, and it seemed she’d pulled it off without any more loss of cards. Using the front and back of the cards in different ways, it actually turned out a cute cocktail dress.

 

Kevin’s dress was similar to Benny’s in shape, but while Benny’s dress was more of a monotone, Kevin’s was an explosion of color. He’d seemed to pick out all of the most colorful ads from the magazine to use, and it was definitely eye catching. Continuing the color motif, Charlie’s model was in a short dress made entirely of Skittles wrappers- it was Charlie, definitely. And her model seemed proud to be wearing it, too.

 

The music cut off and the lights dimmed, and for a few minutes all that was heard was the scratch of the judges’ pens on their scorecards. Jo started to say something, but a production assistant hissed the word “Ice!” at her, which they’d learned from their rulebook was code for ‘shut up, no talking’.

 

(And if you heard them say ‘hard ice’, well, they were really pissed at you.)

 

They were left to squirm in silence as the judges murmured among themselves, so by the time they were called onto the runway, all of them were on edge.

 

“Alright, designers. If I call your name, step forward,” Gabriel said, glancing down at his card again. “Dean, Sarah, Jody, Castiel, Zachariah, and Charlie.”

 

The six of them stepped forward, and Gabriel grinned. “If I have _not_ called your name…congrats, you’re safe. You can go back to your seats,” he said, and there was a collective sigh of relief behind Dean as the six of them left the stage to sit back down in the designer seats. Those left on stage waited for their models to be sent out, and Dean gave Jessica a smile.

 

“Good job,” he said to her softly as the other models stepped into place. She returned the smile with a supportive squeeze of his arm.

 

“Let’s start with Charlie,” Gabriel said, focusing on the redhead. “I want to applaud you on the use of color. I appreciate a good, vibrant color.”

 

“Yes, the color is wonderful, and good job on the construction,” Crowley agreed, and Charlie thanked them, practically glowing at the praise. Naomi narrowed her eyes at the dress.

 

“Yes, it’s a good choice of material, but I feel like it could be less…messy, on the bottom half. It feels like there’s a bit of a disconnect between the top and bottom of the garment,” she said, and Lenore shook her head.

 

“I actually like that, the structure turning into a sort of chaotic look. And I have to know, did you eat the candy?” she asked, and Charlie laughed.

 

“I wasn’t the only one. There was a lot of it, my table was popular,” she said, and the judges took a few moments to write on their cards before moving on.

 

“Sarah, tell us what inspired you to use this material,” Gabriel said, and Sarah tried to smile, but it definitely came out forced.

 

“Well, I liked the volume of the material. I thought I could do something a little more dramatic, more avant-garde…”

 

Crowley snorted. “Darling, I’ve seen a lot of avant-garde in my career, and none of it looks like a checkout counter exploded.”

 

“It’s just unfortunate. She looks as if she got battered by plastic bags in a windstorm,” Naomi said, and Dean winced. Ouch.

 

Lenore smiled gently. “I can see where you were going with it, I think you just got a little lost along the way. I see the concept,” she said, and though Sarah looked a little crushed, she thanked her.

 

“Bit of a hot mess there, Sarah,” Gabriel said before flipping to the next card. “Castiel! I’m dying to know what made you go for water bottles.”

 

“The texture was interesting,” Castiel said, gesturing to the bodice of the dress, “The flat, smooth portions compared with the ribbing on the middle, plus the caps, it just seemed like it would be fun to deconstruct and see what I could do with the shapes.”

 

“I love this dress,” Lenore said. “The strap across the shoulder is so interesting. I could look at this for hours.”

 

Castiel smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

 

“I completely agree,” Naomi said. “In any other material or color, the shapes of this might have been over the top. But the clear and white makes it more…ethereal, than overwhelming. Good job.”

 

“I’m not sure how you got it all done in such a short time,” Crowley pointed out, and Castiel shrugged.

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure either,” he said, earning a laugh before they moved to the next designer. Dean was counting; two they liked, one they hadn’t. And who knew, his might be one of the ones they didn’t like. He never could tell, with these judges.

 

“Zachariah, I am…honestly speechless,” Naomi said, her eyes narrowing. “This is a tragedy.”

 

“I’m not sure if you half assed it on purpose just trying to be safe, or if you’re actually incompetent,” Crowley said, and Zachariah bristled.

 

“I am not incompetent. I am a designer, a real designer. And perhaps I’m not enough of an alcoholic to make art out of beer cans, but I do not make art with crap,” he said, and Dean was about to tell the guy off, but Gabriel beat him to it.

 

“Maybe you should become an alcoholic. Then you might actually find some inspiration in your work,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This is honestly pathetic.”

 

“You can’t pick and choose which challenges are worth your time,” Naomi said. “You’re here to do your absolute best, and this is not your best.”

 

Zachariah looked like he wanted to say something else, but he tightened his fists and clenched his jaw, letting the judges move on. Gabriel focusing in on Dean, and Dean lifted his chin.

 

“I have to ask, Dean, did you drink the contents before you used those cans?” he asked, and Dean laughed.

 

“By midnight I wished that I had,” he said, and that much was true. By midnight all the designers probably wished they were drunk.

 

“I appreciate you taking on a material that no one else tried to work with,” Lenore said. “This is really interesting.”

 

“Are those zip ties?” Crowley asked, leaning forward to get a better look, and Dean nodded.

 

“Yeah, it’s all cans and zip ties.”

 

“It could be a little longer. It’s too short for my taste,” Naomi pointed out. “But other than that, you did an excellent job.”

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, restraining the excitement that was flooding through him. They liked it- it was his first challenge, his first garment, and they liked it. It was beyond what he’d expected.

 

Of course, that left poor Jody in the bottom three; all of the judges saw what she’s been going for, but a garment that falls apart on the runway wouldn’t go over well, no matter how well intentioned.

 

“Alright. We have some deliberating to do; you can all leave the runway,” Gabriel finally said, and all the designers headed backstage to the staging room. Evidently the producers knew it would be a long wait, because lunch was waiting for them there, and all of them were ready to dig in after such a crazy morning.

 

“This is such a joke,” Zachariah complained with a bitter laugh. “I don’t work with garbage. There is no part of being a designer that requires debasing yourself to that.”

 

“Dude, did you even watch the show before you signed up?” Dean asked, because really anyone who watched the show knew that there was always at least one challenge using ridiculous materials. Zachariah snorted.

 

“Of course I did. But we’re talking about a convenience store. It’s nearly barbaric.”

 

“Come on, it’s over now. No point in complaining,” Ruby pointed out, twirling her fork around in her salad.

 

“At least you guys didn’t nearly bleed to death making your garments,” Kevin said, and Meg rolled her eyes.

 

“You got a few paper cuts.”

 

“Yeah, and they hurt!”

 

“I’d rather have paper cuts than be in the bottom three,” Jody said with a sigh. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“You did really good,” Castiel said to Dean, quiet enough to not interrupt the others. Dean blinked in surprise at the compliment and shrugged.

 

“Good enough, anyway. You did better.”

 

“Got lucky this time, I think.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

From there they got on the subject of models, and some people had been luckier than others in the model department- it seemed Dean was one of the lucky ones. Poor Kevin was dealing with a girl who thought she was already supermodel material.

 

It was two hours before they were called back onto the stage. The safe designers returned to the chairs, and Dean took his place under one of the hot spotlights on the runway, practically shaking with nervous energy even though he knew he was safe. Gabriel studied them for a moment, then smiled.

 

“We’ve scored all your creations, designers. One of you will be the winner…and one of you will be out,” he said, and then he looked right at Dean.

 

“Dean…you’re in.”

 

Dean sighed with relief. He was safe. Not just safe, but in the top three; not bad for the first challenge.

 

“And now, for the winner of this challenge,” Gabriel said. “The winner is…Castiel!”

 

Castiel smiled and got a half-hug from his model, along with applause from the other designers (though Dean was sure some of them were just doing so to be polite).

 

“This means you have immunity for the next challenge and can’t be eliminated,” Gabriel said, and then he turned to Charlie. “Good job, Charlie. You’re in.”

 

Now for the moment of truth; seeing who would go home first, and Dean had a pretty good idea that he knew who it would be.

 

“Jody…you’re in,” Gabriel said, and Jody’s shoulders sagged with relief. Now there were just two left standing; Sarah and Zachariah.

 

“Sarah…you had big ideas, but you couldn’t follow through, and it turned into a hot mess,” Gabriel said, and then he turned his attention to Zachariah. “Zachariah, you really disappointed on this challenge. It’s like you didn’t even try, buddy.”

 

Zachariah tensed, but Gabriel ignored him and continued on.

 

“Sarah…you’re in. And that means Zachariah, you’re out.”

 

“Fine,” Zachariah snapped, and everyone was shocked when he just turned and walked out- Dean’s eyebrows shot up as the man turned the corner behind the screen. No final goodbyes, no waiting for them to be dismissed, he just…turned around and walked out.

 

“Well…that was new,” Gabriel said with a laugh, unfazed by the abrupt departure. “Designers, the rest of you may leave the runway and return to your apartments. I will see you bright and early.”

 

They once again filed backstage into the staging room, and congratulations were shared all around, though Jody and Sarah were understandably quiet. They all thought they were going to get a break, but no- the production assistants told them to stay put in the staging room and keep quiet, and one at a time they were taken to the confessional room to record interview segments.

 

It was the most awkward thing Dean had ever done; he had to recall everything about his process, his thoughts, and the challenge, had to answer the questions from the producer in present tense so they could insert the clips later, and he had to do it looking right at the camera. He knew why it had to be that way, but it was still incredibly strange.

 

By the time all eleven of them finished with confessionals, all of them were completely exhausted. The PAs didn’t have to say ice, because they were all too tired to converse anyway.

 

Needless to say, that evening was the earliest Dean had fallen asleep in a long time, too tired to even stress about tomorrow’s challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to reference pics (garment reference only, not makeup or model):
> 
> [Castiel](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Castiel_zps79f06029.jpg.html)
> 
> [Charlie](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Charlie_zpsbed331e8.jpg.html)
> 
> [Dean](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Dean_zps68245fa4.jpg.html)
> 
> [Kevin](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Kevin_zps22c3f78d.jpg.html)
> 
> [Benny](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Benny_zps89692864.jpg.html)
> 
> [Meg](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Meg_zpsbb2b69d8.jpg.html)
> 
> [Jo](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Jo_zpsbf8368ba.jpg.html)
> 
> [Ruby](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Ruby_zpsf95df272.jpg.html)
> 
> [Balthazar](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Balthazar_zps702314f0.jpg.html)
> 
> [Jody](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Jody_zps20f32094.jpg.html)
> 
> [Sarah](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Sarah_zps7dceeeba.jpg.html)
> 
> [Zachariah](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/DakotaJones/media/Zachariah_zps213c2f6c.jpg.html)


	3. Sticky Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get sticky for the eleven designers left; Dean tries to get Castiel to loosen up a little, and fails miserably. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is a bit late- to make up for that, it's also a bit long! Also, I have made big plans for future challenges and other events, and I'm super excited about what's to come. Thank you to everyone who reads, and extra love to those who review! <3

The first thing Dean did the next morning was flip off the camera. It didn’t do any good, but it made him feel a little better. 

He did have to drag himself out of bed eventually, though. He passed by Kevin‘s bed and yanked the covers down before continuing on to the shower, taking his time in the one place a camera wasn’t over his shoulder every second. 

Yesterday didn’t feel real. It felt like something he’d watched on TV, or a weird dream, not something he’d actually done. He felt like any second he’d be waking up in his apartment back home, getting dressed and going to the garage to work.

He’d been in the top three. On All Star Designer. It was unreal.

He wasn’t surprised to see Castiel up and dressed and drinking coffee when he went out to the kitchen. He went straight to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, nearly running right into the camera when he turned to walk back to the counter.

“Congrats on the win,” he said as he sat down on one of the barstools. Castiel blinked and looked at him with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected the compliment- and maybe he hadn’t. From the haphazard watching Dean had done of the show, the people who won early on tended to become targets, not friends.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, a hint of a smile on his face as he sipped at the last of his coffee.

Dean didn’t see the point in holding grudges so early on in the competition. He planned on treating everyone decently unless they gave him a reason not to; he wasn’t about to be that person who everyone ended up hating because of a bad attitude. Like Zachariah would surely have been, had he stayed.

Dean didn’t know why the guy even bothered to audition if he didn’t want to use weird shit to make clothes. That was par for the course here.

Kevin finally dragged himself into the front room, and they made their way downstairs to the lobby, where Meg, Ruby, and Sarah were already waiting. Sarah looked vaguely uncomfortable, while Meg and Ruby fell silent the moment the elevator opened, leading to an awkward, suspicious silence.

“Good morning, boys,” Meg finally said with a smirk. “Get enough beauty sleep?”

“They’re depriving us of sleep to turn us against each other,” Kevin muttered, and while he was joking, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually right. Sleep deprivation plus stressful work would add up to a whole lot of drama the longer it went on, and more drama meant higher ratings.

Nobody was as bright and cheery as they had been yesterday during the walk over to Brighton’s. Even Jo was more subdued, though still far too happy for early in the morning. 

“I have too many paper cuts to count,” Kevin moaned, staring at his hands.

“You were the one who picked magazines to use,” Jo pointed out with a laugh, and Kevin gave her a weak shove as they filed through the doors into Brighton’s. The runway was in a giant exhibition room on the main floor, and they filed inside and sat down in the designer seats- now eleven chairs instead of twelve.

It was mere moments before Gabriel emerged from behind the screen at the start of the runway. He was in his usual flamboyant styling, and smirking, too- Gabriel smirking could never mean anything good, Dean was sure of it.

“Good morning, designers,” Gabriel said, his eyes scanning over them with amusement, probably taking a certain glee in how tired they already looked. He received mumbles of greeting in reply, and he laughed.

“Well, aren’t you a lively bunch?” he said. “You’ll have to wake up quick. Tim is waiting upstairs with the materials for your next challenge. For some of you, it will be a walk down memory lane…good or bad, that I don’t know.”

That didn’t bode well. The tension in the room was already ratcheting up now, exhaustion being replaced with nervousness as Gabriel gave them a wave.

“Bye bye now. I’ll see you on the runway,” he said, turning to leave with far too much skip in his step. As soon as he was gone the designers stood up, Dean trying to ignore the pit of dread in his stomach as the designers tried to guess what they would find in the workroom.

“Watch, we’ll be making cocktail dresses out of lumber or something,” Jody said, and really, Dean wouldn’t have been surprised in the least.

What greeted them in the workroom, though, made him burst out laughing- piles and piles of brightly colored duct tape. Tim stood in the middle of the stacks of tape, every color of the rainbow from the classic grey to neon green. More than a few of the designers looked horrified; Dean, though, was actually kind of excited about making something out of duct tape.

“Good morning, designers,” Tim said, and at least he didn’t seem to take pleasure in the fact that they looked dead tired. “As you can see, for this next challenge you will be working with duct tape to create your runway look. But this runway look has one little twist.”

Someone groaned behind Dean, and he felt that dread return- they would be making something ridiculous, he was sure of it. Like clown costumes. Or baby clothes.

“You’re creating a look for a high school prom,” Tim continued, and Dean sighed with relief. Prom he could do. He’d been making prom dresses for years- as long as he didn’t screw up royally with the duct tape, he’d be okay. 

Castiel, though, actually looked nervous now. Castiel, who hadn’t batted an eyelash when they were faced with a convenience store, who hadn’t been fazed with using a pile of plastic to make a dress- he looked terrified of some tape and a prom dress.

Dean didn’t get a chance to ask him about it. Tim was already moving on, filling them in on the challenge. “You will have two days for this challenge, and you will have access to all the tape you see here, so no budget for this. Notions, if needed, are at the back of the workroom. Are you ready to get started?”

Dean was already studying the piles of tape, pinpointing colors that would be bright and youthful, so by the time Tim said they could start, he was ready. He immediately picked up a few rolls of white, some bright purple, and a vivid turquoise blue. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do yet, but starting with a solid palette was half the battle.

Castiel already seemed unsure. He’d picked out a nice blue, but he was hesitating now, studying the other colors like he was trying to memorize them. Charlie was already heading back to her table, her arms full of classic grey duct tape, and Dean gave her a curious look.

“Come on, someone’s gotta keep it classic,” she said with a smile, and Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his tape on his own table, then pulled his sketchpad over to start working on silhouettes. He knew that the classic prom dress would get a lot of use in here- tight on the top, huge Disney-style princess skirt, and he wanted to avoid that, even if it would be the safe route to take.

Castiel finally brought his tape back to his workstation, the blue now joined by a pretty, rich brown. Not Dean’s cup of tea, but he had the feeling Castiel could make it work. Castiel didn’t seem so sure, though; he paused and stared at the tape, still with that vague look of panic on his face.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean asked, and Castiel took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I’ve never been to prom.”

“But you saw pictures from it, right? My school plastered them all over the hallways and the school paper,” Dean pointed out, and Castiel’s frown deepened.

“I was home schooled.”

Oh. Oh. Well, now his panic seemed to make a whole lot more sense. If you went by modern TV, all proms were filled with miniskirts and massive amounts of cleavage; but in a normal prom, those things would get you kicked out for dress code violations. He wasn’t surprised Castiel was dubious.

“I can have a look at your sketches and give you a hand. I know prom dresses way too well,” he offered, surprising Castiel for the second time that morning.

“…Really?”

“Yeah, really. I don’t mind,” Dean said with a shrug.

“Isn’t that adorable,” Charlie said, her chin propped on her hands as she watched the exchange, and Dean grabbed one of her rolls of duct tape and tossed it at her face. She laughed as she swatted away the flying tape, going back to her own sketch.

“So who was the prom queen in here?” Jo asked, and Meg laughed, sitting cross-legged on her table and carefully folding bright red duct tape in half.

“Forget that, I was the one who spiked the punch,” she said, leading to an argument about whether she was bluffing or not, because that was seriously a high school movie cliché. Though just from two days of knowing Meg, Dean wouldn’t doubt it; something about her gave him the creeps.

Dean focused on his dress form, where he was carefully wrapping purple duct tape over muslin in close layers, trying to shape it to the bust line without distorting the tape too much. It was easier said than done, and it took a while to be able to manipulate the tape without ending up with a tangled, sticky mess on his hands with every other piece.

He stopped briefly when Castiel held out his sketchpad, and Dean skimmed over the elegant lines and nodded. “Looks like prom to me,” he said, returning the sketchpad with a smile. Castiel managed a smile, bumping into the table when he turned to go back to his own table.

They settled in to work, the room quiet apart from bursts of conversation here and there, or people curious about other designer’s color choices.

By the time Charlie bumped her hip against him and demanded company for lunch, Dean couldn’t believe how much time had already gone by- it was lunchtime, and he wasn’t even finished with the bodice yet. Of course, looking around the room he felt a little better about his progress; Charlie’s station was a mess of grey duct tape, some formed into looped chains, and Castiel’s station was covered in the same twisted scraps as Dean’s; the only work Castiel had to show so far was a stack of long strips of blue duct tape, carefully folded lengthwise.

He wasn’t even going to look too long at the mess on Sarah’s station. He might damage his vision just by staring too long at the blinding mix of purple, pink, and orange tape she was working with.

“Come on, I’m hungry and no one else is in the break room,” Charlie said, and then she looked up at Castiel and Benny. “You guys too. I don’t trust Dean alone with me. He’s definitely shady,” she added, getting a laugh from Benny and a confused look from Castiel.

“Alright, I get your point, little lady. I’m coming,” Benny said with his usual drawl as he cut off the piece of tape he was working with and then stood up and stretched. Castiel just looked down at his work again.

“I’m not really at a good stopping point. You guys go ahead,” he said, and Dean thought about pointing out that there really wouldn’t be any good stopping points in this project, but he just let it go. If Castiel didn’t want to come, he wouldn’t push it.

There were sandwiches and salads waiting for them in the break room, same as yesterday, but at least there were different options available. The three of them gathered their food and sat down on the long couches, though Dean would hardly qualify this to be a couch, because couches were supposed to be comfortable. These couches were those ultra-modern monstrosities that were all sharp angles and cushions so hard it was like sitting on a slab of cement.

“His little crush on you is so fucking cute,” Charlie pointed out, the cameraman hovering on the other side of the coffee table, camera pointed right at them as they ate. Their lunch ‘break’ wasn’t really a break, after all- a break from work, but not from being on camera.

“His crush? Castiel?” Dean said in disbelief around a bite of turkey sandwich, which yeah, his mom was going to smack him if any of this lunch footage aired, with his habit of talking with his mouth full.

Charlie nodded. “He has such a crush on you and it’s so adorable. I mean, it’s obvious.”

“It’s not obvious because he doesn’t. You’re already getting weird from cabin fever,” Dean said, looking past her to Benny. “Benny will back me up on this.”

Benny chuckled. “I am not gettin’ involved in this, brother. You’re on your own.”

“Traitor,” Dean muttered, slouching in his seat. “Least I’m not already hitting on my model,” he said, and Charlie did a great job of looking mock-offended at that.

“Can you really blame me? Did you see her? I got the hottest model in the bunch,” she said, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, Charlie. Excuses, excuses.”

The teasing turned into a miniature food fight that consisted of Charlie lobbing a tomato at his head, which got a slice of lettuce tossed in return before Benny warned them that this couch probably cost more than any of them made in a year and he wouldn’t be involved in damaging it with stains. And now that Dean thought about it, this modern shit probably did sell in at least the five digits, and unless he won the competition, having that much in his bank account was a pipe dream.

Not that he’d seriously considered that he might win. He was pretty certain he wouldn’t, not with half the people here coming from design schools and dropping employer names like McQueen and Ford. Dean had never even been to a real fashion show beyond the knock off versions that they did in the middle of malls in Kansas that went mostly ignored. 

Luckily, Charlie and Benny were pleasant lunch company, not interested in talking about the competition on their break (except for a mutual agreement that what was going on at Sarah’s station was a travesty to all but the blind). By the time they headed back into the workroom a little of the stress had lifted from his shoulders, and he actually felt clear-headed and ready to tackle this bodice and get it finished.

Looking back at his sketch, he was confident that if he could get the bodice and waistband detail done by the end of today, he could get the skirt done tomorrow. Probably. He wasn’t doing a full gown like the others; his skirt would hit just below the knee and ruffle out a little at the bottom, but while he was confident the skirt itself wouldn’t be too bad, he didn’t even know where to start making a ruffle out of duct tape.

He would deal with that when the time came. Right now he had a goal and needed to stick to it.

When Castiel finally did take his lunch break it was when no one else was in the break room, and he was barely gone for ten minutes before he appeared back at his workstation, settling into his work as if he’d never left at all. Dean had the feeling that if the PAs weren’t watching like a hawk to make sure they all ate something, Castiel would skip meals altogether. He seemed the type. Meanwhile, if Dean had to go without a meal, you could bet he would be whining and complaining within a couple hours.

He blamed his mom and her almost militant attitude toward family meal time. She couldn’t get their dad to follow the routine, but she made damn sure Dean and Sam did. He couldn’t complain; her cooking wasn’t exactly a punishment.

And now he missed her cooking, just thinking about it. Catered sandwiches just didn’t cut it, and the idea that he would be eating them for weeks made him shudder.

The door to the room swung open and they all looked up, because not many people came through that door to the rest of the building during the workday; and sure enough, it was Tim. 

“Hello, designers,” he said, clapping his hands together and looking around the room. “I’m just here to check up with each of you. Go on about your business,” he added, heading over to Benny’s table first. Benny showed him the progress he’d made with some sleek, shiny black tape, nothing too solid yet, and then showed him the sketch. Tim stared at the sketch for a few moments, and then picked up a roll of the tape.

“I’m a little concerned. Between the silhouette and the patent leather look of this tape, this runs the risk of looking a little…slutty,” he pointed out, and Benny shook his head.

“I’m gonna do some detailing in white. Won’t be a flat out hooker dress,” he insisted, and Tim set the tape down.

“If you’re confident, then go for it. Just avoid using any boots from the accessory wall. And I might suggest you add a little length, considering the age group,” he said, turning toward Dean’s table. Dean was ready for him, and quite frankly eager to have an outside opinion from someone who knew what the hell they were doing.

“How are you, Dean?” Tim asked, and Dean took a deep breath.

“Pretty damn good, considering.”

“Good. Well, show me what you’ve got here.”

“The bodice is purple down to here, and the waistband is going to be white,” Dean explained, holding a scrap of the purple next to the white for a visual aid. “Then the skirt is going to be this blue color, and flare here, just below the knee,” he continued, tapping the sketch he’d made earlier.

“Well, you’ve picked a wonderful palette. And a good shape, though you should think about adding another inch or so to that neckline,” Tim said, and Dean stood back, looking carefully at the bodice.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It looks a little low,” he said, though he would definitely wait until after the model fitting before he adjusted the neckline. 

“My only concern is that the design might be a little…simple. It’s missing that extra ‘oomph’.”

“Well, I didn’t want to go over the top with it.”

“You don’t want to be too safe, either,” Tim said, and Dean sighed, staring down at his sketch. He was already going to be pressed for time- what could he possibly add?

“Thanks, Tim.”

“Carry on. I know you’ll make it work. Hopefully without running the garment over with a vehicle,” Tim said with a smile, patting Dean on the shoulder before moving on to Castiel. Benny raised an eyebrow at Dean, his hands paused in their work.

“You run your clothes over with a car?”

Dean groaned. “It’s not that weird, come on. I use it to distress leather. It’s great at breaking it in.”

“…You know there are tools for that, right?”

“My car does it better,” Dean muttered defensively, and Benny laughed and went back to his garment, leaving Dean to stare down at his sketch. Tim was right; if he didn’t add something, his design ran a serious risk of being too plain considering the competition in the room. Hell, Charlie was only using one color, and her garment still had the draw of the odd construction- a skirt made of looped chains of grey duct tape. It was actually rather clever.

He couldn’t waste time deciding now, though. He resolved to sleep on it, going back to his work on the bodice, and not-so-accidentally eavesdropping on the other designers’ feedback from Tim.

From the last bit of Castiel’s critique that Dean caught, he was in much the same position as yesterday- Tim liked the sketch well enough, but he was concerned that Castiel didn’t have enough time to bring it to life. Castiel was quiet, but appeared to be actually thinking it over this time; this whole challenge seemed to leave him unsteady, not nearly as confident as he had been for the last challenge.

At least he had immunity. He could send a half naked model down the runway and still not have to worry.

“Charlie, there is a distinct lack of color on this table,” Tim said as he approached Charlie’s station, and she grinned at him.

“I know! I mean, come on, Tim. When you see a duct tape wallet, it’s classic duct tape. Nobody makes a dress out of classic duct tape. Someone’s gotta stick up for it,” she insisted, and Tim laughed, looking at her sketch.

“You know, normally I would scold you endlessly for the lack of variety, but it’s obvious you feel strongly about this.”

“It’s duct tape. Of course I do. Everyone should. This stuff is amazeballs.”

Tim frowned at her. “Amazeballs?”

“Yeah, get with the times, Tim. Amazeballs,” Charlie said, and Tim laughed again and shook his head.

“I’ll let you get to it. You keep that attitude!” he said, stepping back to the next table.

Dean caught bits and pieces of the critiques from there. Evidently Meg was in the same situation as Castiel- a big concept, and not a lot of time to execute it. Jo was told to make sure she avoided ending up with a ‘bridesmaid’ look instead of a prom look, Kevin was warned that his colors could leave the dress looking like a cheap Halloween witch costume if he wasn’t careful, and Ruby…well, Tim didn’t seem certain at all about Ruby’s work so far, but obviously there was something in the sketch that Dean couldn’t see in her work so far, because Tim told her to carry on with it.

Dean wasn’t surprised when Tim told Balthazar that he needed to rethink his concept and edit so it wouldn’t end up looking gimmicky or tasteless, and he also wasn’t surprised when Balthazar responded by basically proclaiming that he would be fine with what he had and Tim was just being overly paranoid. Equally unsurprising was his advice to Jody to ‘bump it up to the next level’, because otherwise her design would fall flat compared to some of the others.

Everyone seemed to be listening when Tim got to Sarah’s station. For a few long, awkward moments he simply stood and stared, chin propped on his fingers as he thought, and Sarah waited expectantly.

“You’re making me nervous,” she finally said with a laugh, and Tim hesitated one more moment before speaking.

“I’m going to be blunt with you…it looks like Rainbow Brite became ill and threw up on your station,” he said, and there was more than one snort in the room as people tried not to burst out laughing- Dean included. Sarah looked devastated, though; he would have had a whole lot easier of a time feeling sorry for her if the color choice weren’t so utterly repugnant.

“Bold colors are in. It’s a big thing with kids right now,” she insisted, and Tim nodded along.

“Bold colors are one thing. These colors, though…they’re reminiscent of a bad acid trip.”

“And just how do you know what a bad acid trip is like?” Ruby asked, and Tim laughed.

“Oh, no. You’re not making this about me,” he said, turning back to Sarah. “I would seriously stand back and work on editing this look if I were you. You’ve got all day tomorrow, but you still need to consider the time factor here.”

Sarah nodded, shoulders slumping as she looked at the partial dress on the form. “I will, Tim.”

“Good. I know you can do it. Make it work,” Tim said before turning to face the rest of the room. “Well, in general I’m excited about what’s going on in here. I think this will be a fabulous runway show. Everyone keep at it, and keep your eye on the time. Just because it’s a two day challenge doesn’t mean you can slack.”

“Don’t think anyone is planning on slacking,” Kevin pointed out, a strip of duct tape stuck to his arm as he maneuvered another into place.

“Your models will be in for a fitting before lunch tomorrow. I will see you the morning of the runway,” Tim said, and goodbyes were sent his way as he left the room, having pushed the tension up a few notches during the course of his visit. It always ended up that way; people who thought they were on a good track had their hopes dashed, others were completely lost once Tim left. Dean counted himself lucky that his basic design wasn’t declared a total fuck up. Poor Sarah was still staring at her work, and it remained to be seen if she would continue and try to refine the concept she had, or scrap it and start all over.

They’d been working for a while longer when Meg sauntered by Dean’s station and promptly sat on Castiel’s table, luckily on one of the few spots not covered by his work in progress. She crossed her legs and picked up one of the pieces he’d already folded, and Dean felt a rush of anger for Castiel, because he’d be pissed if anyone just grabbed his work without asking. Castiel took it in stride, though, looking up from his dress form and raising an eyebrow at her.

“You and I both have some crazy work to do, Clarence,” she said, eyeing him more like he was a chunk of meat than a human being. Of course, it went right over Castiel’s head.

“My name isn’t Clarence.”

“I know.”

Castiel still looked incredibly confused, but he turned back to his work- but only for a few moments before he was giving her another look. “Is there…something you wanted? I’m a bit busy,” he said, which was more diplomatic than Dean would have been if she’d planted her ass on his table.

“I was just resting my hands for a minute. Wanted to see what the starting horse out of the gate was up to,” she said with an innocent shrug, and Dean had had enough. He set down his tape and stood up, brushing slivers of tape from his jeans.

“Hey, Cas, it’s time for dinner and I’m starving. You said you’d hang with me,” he said, a bold-faced lie, but luckily there was only a flicker of confusion on Castiel’s face before he realized what Dean was getting at.

“Oh. Yes, I did, didn’t I?” he said, and it was the fastest Dean had ever seen the guy pull away from his work. Dean led the way to the break room, Castiel right on his heels, and as soon as the door closed behind them Castiel let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you, Dean. I was beginning to wonder if I would be left alone to work,” he said, and Dean gave him a smile, picking up a bottled water and tossing it his way. Castiel fumbled but managed to catch it.

“No problem. You’d better cover for me if she goes creepy on my ass, though,” he said, picking out a different kind of sandwich than the one he’d had for lunch. “So, what was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“Being homeschooled,” Dean said, dropping down on the couch and wincing when it didn’t give an inch on impact. Castiel picked out a sandwich, and then made his way to the couch, sitting down on the edge of it, back nearly ramrod straight.

“It was…uneventful,” he said with a shrug, and Dean laughed.

“Uneventful? That’s it?”

“I don’t know how else I would describe it. The tutor came in early, we studied, ate lunch, then studied more. It wasn’t anything exciting.”

“We? So you’ve got siblings?” Dean asked. Jesus, this was like pulling teeth, trying to get Castiel to talk about himself.

“Three siblings,” Castiel replied, the words almost so soft that Dean didn’t hear them. There was an almost pained look on Castiel’s face, a sadness that caught Dean off guard- but he didn’t get a chance to ask any more, because Ruby and Balthazar came into the break room, complaining about sticky residue from the tape as they gathered their meals.

The moment was over. Like a switch had been flipped, Castiel nearly inhaled the sandwich in what had to be record time, and by the time Ruby and Balthazar were sitting down, he was standing up and excusing himself back to the workroom, nearly having to push the cameraman aside to get through. Obviously the cameraman had wanted him to stay and keep the heart-to-heart going with Dean.

Dean wanted that too, but at the same time, he remembered that look- and he wondered if he would be an asshole if he asked any more when it upset Castiel that much and might end up aired on national TV. It didn’t seem fair.

“What’s his problem?” Balthazar asked, watching the door fall shut behind Castiel. Dean shrugged.

“Just stressed. We all are,” he said, and that much was definitely the truth.

“Well, I inspired a new rule in the contract. Future participants will not be permitted to use sex aids or sex toys in their projects,” Balthazar said with a smirk, and Dean smiled too, imagining the panic that went on with the producers over that whole fiasco.

“Too bad. I was hoping to make a dress out of dildos next,” Ruby said, staring at her sandwich as if it had personally offended her. “Speaking of dildos, who do I have to blow to get some French fries around here?”

The cameraman choked on air so bad that he nearly dropped the camera.

*~~~~~~*

By the end of the day, Dean had finished up on the bodice, and was ready to work on the skirt the moment they came in the next morning. They were allowed to sleep in an extra two hours more than usual, but the opinion on that was split between the people who thought the extra sleep was invaluable, and the people who thought the extra sleep was a waste of time when they could have been working on their garments.

Sarah had evidently decided to go balls-out with her original idea on the prom dress. Dean wasn’t sure if he admired her guts or if he thought she was an idiot; after all, there were times that the judges disagreed with Tim, but that wasn’t something he would bank on. Especially not when the outfit in question was that…vivid. That was about the only semi-nice word he could think of to describe it.

Dean still couldn’t tell what Ruby was going for. There were patches of blue on black, white spots…it seemed random, but she was working like she had a plan for everything. She probably did. The people who were genuinely a little lost- which on this challenge seemed to be Sarah, Jody, and to an extent, Benny- stood out in the workroom. They were constantly back and forth, looking at their garment from across the room, from the approximate distance the judges would be seeing it, tugging at the tape, staring at it some more…Dean had the feeling he would experience that more than once in the coming challenges, so he wasn’t about to make fun.

“Tim jinxed me. It still looks like a hooker dress,” Benny complained, holding a roll of white tape as he studied the half finished dress on his dress form. Dean looked at it too, hesitated, and then decided he wouldn’t be doing the guy any favors by sugar coating it.

“Yeah, it…kinda does. I’d throw some more white on there. Or another color. And definitely avoid the boots.”

“Or I could embrace it and say she’s attending prom ironically to poke fun at the school whores,” Benny said with a shrug, and Dean laughed. 

“Or that. You wouldn’t get sent home for being boring, that’s for sure.”

They didn’t get much time to work before the door opened and their models began to file in. Most of them were excited when they saw the unfinished garments, and Jessica was no exception; she clapped her hands together with her usual bright smile when she saw the bodice.

“This is actually a whole lot better than what I wore to prom,” she said as she stripped off her shirt, leaving her bra on as Dean carefully removed the bodice from the dress form.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I went full on frilly princess with it. I had a horrible fashion sense,” she explained, holding her arms up and letting Dean carefully wrap the stiff garment around her. “There was pink, and sequins. And tulle.”

Dean winced. “You sound like half my clients back home.”

“Really? You don’t look the type to be making prom dresses for a living,” she said, and Dean chuckled, stepping back to study the neckline. 

“Not really for a living. More of a side job,” he said, remembering Tim’s advice to raise the neckline an inch or two. He’d agreed at the time, but now that he was looking at it, he thought it fell perfect on Jessica. He really didn’t want to change it when he’d worked so hard on it already.

Oh well; he’d take the hit for it if he had to. The judges could deal.

“What did you do for a living, then?” she asked, unperturbed by a guy staring at her tits for a full minute. Then again, he had a good excuse.

…not that she didn’t have nice tits to look at. She totally did.

“I’m a mechanic,” he said, and she burst out laughing.

“A mechanic who’s secretly a fashionista? Sounds like the beginning to a really cheesy gay porn,” she pointed out, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I have higher standards than our clientele at the shop, thanks. They tend to run a bit…bigoted. Small town,” he pointed out, and she pouted.

“Ruining all my hopes and dreams, Dean,” she complained as he made one final note and then helped her out of the bodice. “What kind of skirt will it have?” she asked after a moment, leaning over to look at his sketchbook.

“Pencil skirt with a flare at the bottom,” Dean said, which wasn’t entirely accurate, but close enough. He sighed and looked down at the sketch. “Still have to think of something to add. You know, a hook for it. Tim said it’s too simple. But more ruffles would make be too much, and cutouts are too sexy for prom. Especially since I’m already putting your rack on display.”

“Draw on it?” Jessica suggested with a laugh, and then the PA was calling out to them, telling the models it was time to go. Dean rolled his eyes at her and gave her a half hug before sending her on her way, and he turned back to his sketch, mulling the idea over.

Draw on it. Well, he couldn’t really draw on it, but…

He pulled the white duct tape over, and then with a pencil he lightly drew a curvy line design on the tape. He reached for his scissors and carefully cut the design out, then applied it at the top front of the skirt, right where the blue started.

“My model’s a genius,” he said with a smile, finally confident that he knew how he was finishing his dress.

“Still not as hot as my model,” Charlie said behind him, and he snorted and shook his head, getting back to work.

It was even quieter than yesterday had been. No one paused in their work to chat at other stations, there were no tape rolls flying across the room or rolling across the floor; everyone was focused on their work and mostly silent, aside from the occasional curse from someone fighting a stubborn piece of tape. Dean felt like he’d gotten pretty much nowhere on his progress by the time lunch rolled around, but Charlie literally grabbed his arm and dragged him away from his station, and called out to Castiel that she’d do the same to him if he didn’t get his ass to the break room. Jo, Kevin, and Benny joined them soon after, all of them looking like battered war vets as they collapsed in the break room to eat.

“I never want to see a roll of duct tape ever again in my life,” Jo moaned, dropping her head back against the couch, and Kevin snorted.

“Now you know how I feel about magazines.”

“Wonder if Balthazar feels the same about condoms now,” Charlie said, and all of them winced a little at that thought. 

Castiel was once again quiet throughout the conversation, but at least he ate slower this time and seemed like he was paying attention to the conversation. 

They only had a few hours left to work, and part of that he spent overlaying the white design he’d created down the front of the skirt. Tomorrow they would have little time to finish up, between taking their models to hair and makeup, and the last thing Dean wanted was to have a pile of work waiting to try and get done at the last second (although he knew that was pretty much the norm for this competition, from the episodes he’d seen).

But he could only work so fast, especially when it came to shaping the ruffles at the bottom of the skirt, because while you could simply run fabric through a sewing machine in a certain way to get a ruffle, that definitely didn’t work with tape. He had to shape every curve and reinforce the shape in each strand of tape, and when he heard someone say it was eleven and time to go, he was only halfway done. It felt like someone had taken a shovel to his stomach and just started digging; there was no way he was going to finish. No way.

He wasn’t the only one, though. Charlie seemed to only have half of her chain skirt attached, and Castiel was still arranging strips of duct tape and matching colors up in the bodice. That was without even looking at the other side of the room to see who was struggling there.

But until tomorrow morning, he couldn’t do anything more. And after a full day of working, his back was aching and his fingers sore as he collapsed into his bed in the apartment, asleep nearly before his head even hit the pillow.

*~~~~~~*

Everyone was working within seconds of getting into the workroom the next morning.

Dean’s pulse was racing like he’d had five cups of coffee as he tried desperately to finish the bottom of his dress- and then Kevin was there, picking up a roll of tape and asking Dean how he was doing it. Dean could have kissed the kid; he showed Kevin how he was curving and reinforcing the tape, and Kevin set to work on the other side of the dress.

“I really can’t thank you enough for this, Kevin,” Dean said, though the words came out muffled around the piece of tape he was holding between his teeth. Kevin shot him an amused smile.

“No big. I can’t do anything else till Elizabeth gets here anyway,” he said, quickly becoming used to the movements. In minutes, he was working just as quickly as Dean; Kevin was an incredibly fast learner, that was for sure.

And Dean could have sworn he saw Castiel actually smiling at the two of them when he saw that Kevin had come over to help him.

When the models came in the door, Dean was actually in pretty decent shape, thanks to Kevin. He only had a few inches of ruffle to finish, so it wasn’t awful to step away to get all the model stuff taken care of.

“Oh my god, you really did draw on it,” Jessica said with a laugh, and Dean frowned at her.

“I did not draw on it. I appliqued. With duct tape.”

“Uh huh.”

“Careful, or I’ll ask them to dye your hair purple to match.”

Jessica smacked him, and he chuckled and straightened up, wincing at the pain in his back from bending over to work on the dress without pause. He led Jessica up to the hair salon, where the stylists were already working on two of the other models.

“Go with a classy updo. Lots of curls,” he said, hoping that his lack of hair and makeup knowledge wouldn’t come back to bite him on one of these challenges. The stylist nodded and gave him a thumbs up, though, so he assumed they were good to go and headed back down to the workroom.

Jessica was in the salon for 45 minutes before she returned, her hair swept up into a beautiful updo style, and Dean checked the clock one more time before he took her up to the makeup room. It was going to be close; he just needed twenty more minutes to finish up with the dress. He could do this. 

He instructed the makeup guy to give her some color to match the dress for her eyeshadow, a nude lip, and all the other normal shit like mascara and eyeliner (that got a smirk from the guy, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was because mascara and eyeliner were considered normal shit or not). Ruby gave him a dirty look, like he should know all the crap color names- which, come on, that eyeshadow is fucking purple, not ‘England’s Majesty’ or what the fuck ever- before he left Jessica to finish her makeup and went back down to finish his dress.

He was just trimming the last piece of tape when Tim came through the door and announced that they had ten minutes before they were leaving for the runway. About that same time Jessica returned from makeup, and Dean ordered her to strip as he removed the dress from the dress form (and under any other circumstances he probably would have gotten slapped for ordering a girl to strip down to her thong, but hey; perks of being a designer).

“It’s so pretty. I should’ve hired you to make my prom dress,” she said as Dean had her step into the dress and pulled it up her body. She had decent hips for a model, so it took a few tugs to get the bodice over her hips, but soon she was into the dress. Dean checked the clock; five minutes to adjust the dress so it wouldn’t fall off her chest on the runway. He was going to die of a heart attack before this competition ended.

But as he worked on the back of the dress tightening things up, he couldn’t help but laugh when he looked over Jessica’s shoulder at Castiel, who was also getting his model into her dress.

“Cas, did you seriously put a twine corset into the back of a dress made out of duct tape?” he asked, and Castiel blinked and looked at the back of the dress, as if Dean were asking the stupidest question in the world.

“Of course I did. It elevates the look,” he said, and Dean laughed again, because that was kind of adorable and ridiculous. He’d wondered why Castiel had grabbed a handful of the twine holding the bundles of duct tape together.

“Alright, designers, time is up! I need all designers and models in the hallway with me, right now,” Tim called from the doorway, and Dean tugged at the top of the dress, making sure that his alterations would hold firm before he let out a breath of relief.

“Okay, Jess. No sitting down, no eating, fuck, no breathing,” he said with a nervous chuckle, and she grinned at him as they walked toward the hallway.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” she said. “If I can wear a dress made of aluminum cans, I think I can handle some tape.”

Dean was never more thankful for getting an amazing model than he was right now, especially with Kevin’s model towering over him and whining about how gross the tape feels, and how he should have lined it with cloth for her. Kevin was ignoring all the whining, though Dean could see the exasperation in his expression.

Luckily for Kevin, the models were taken in one direction and the models in another. Dean and the rest of the designers were led to the runway, where they were once again left to sit in the designers’ seats and wait as cameras and lights were moved around. Eventually Crowley and Naomi showed up with their guest judge, who was-

Shit. No fucking way was he seeing this right. 

That was not fucking Paris Hilton, walking arm in arm with Crowley.

“Is that who I think it is?” Kevin asked him with a somewhat horrified look, and Dean just nodded dumbly. Paris fucking Hilton. Didn’t she get out of fashion and go full time DJ? The show was probably paying her a boatload for this cameo.

At least she didn’t have one of her little rats disguised as dogs with her.

After what felt like hours, Gabriel finally emerged from behind the screen with his usual flourish, practically skipping out onto the runway.

“Hello, designers! I trust you didn’t get yourself into any sticky situations the past two days?” he said, and there was a collective groan at the bad joke. He rolled his eyes.

“No pleasing you people. Oh well. Time for the runway!” he said, not missing a beat despite their hatred of his joke. “Your judges this week are Naomi Prevot, Editor in Chief of Eve Magazine; Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency; and last but not least, actress and fashionista, Miss Paris Hilton!”

“Hi designers,” Paris said with a wave and that plastic looking smile of hers. She certainly didn’t get as exuberant a welcome as Lenore had last week.

“This week, we asked you to create a look appropriate for prom…using only duct tape,” Gabriel recapped, a mischevious look on his face. “Castiel, since you won last week, you are safe from the chopping block this week. One designer will win this challenge and gain immunity for next week; and one designer will be out of the competition for good. That said, let’s start this show!”

Gabriel hopped off the runway and over to the judges, giving Paris a set of those fancy double air kisses before dropping into his own chair. 

The lights dimmed, the music came on, and the first model posed behind the screen. 

The very first dress out was Dean’s. Jessica was fantastic on the runway, just like she’d been last week, and the dress fit her like a glove; the only thing that Dean knew would probably count against him was the lack of coverage up top. Personally, he thought the dress looked good enough to make up for any dress code slip-ups; it wasn’t like she was exposed or anything.

The next dress was Kevin’s. He’d managed to avoid the purple and black dress looking too ‘Halloween’ with a series of small fringes along the bottom of the dress, plus neatly cut black duct tape detailing arching up from the straps of the dress. He gave Kevin a clap on the shoulder and a quiet ‘good job’, and Kevin pretty much beamed at the compliment.

The next was Meg’s, and this was the moment that Dean decided she had to be a demon, or something else supernatural, because no one else could have gotten that amount of work done in such a short time. Her red gown was woven and all the way to the floor with black detailing at the top and bottom edges, and her model’s amazing afro only accentuated the shape of the dress by mirroring it dramatically.

Jody’s came after, and Dean felt a bit sorry for her- because she’d struggled with this challenge, and anyone whose garment walked right after Meg’s would end up looking pretty bad in comparison. It didn’t help that right after Jody’s pink and black crosshatched dress came Ruby’s, which at the last second had developed into a definite look; the blue patches on a black background with seemingly random white dots had become a dress that looked like overlaid butterfly wings. He had to admit, it was unique, and it looked damn good. It seemed the women were going to own this week.

Balthazar’s came after, and Dean had to hold back his laughter; Balthazar had used the novelty duct tape that was red with black lettering on it, spelling out the word DANGER in bold capitals at seemingly random spots on the short dress. He had a good silhouette, though- if you upped it by two sizes.

Castiel’s model turned the corner next, and for a guy who knew next to nothing about prom, he’d done a damn good job of pulling together a classic prom look. It was a long strapless gown, blue with brown detailing along the top and a brown belt, angles strips of blue tape overlapping all the way to the floor. It may have been a little safe, but it would definitely keep him safe from the bottom this week, with all the people who tried to take ‘risks’. Like the next dress, which was Sarah’s- a color-blocked monstrosity of color in bright purple, pink, and orange. As if the colors weren’t enough, there were rows of ruffles along the bottom of the short skirt, and a huge pink bow on the back. He had the feeling she was going for Harajuku style and missed by about 2000 miles.

Charlie’s model was next, and really, she should have gotten massive amounts of points for sheer effort; it may not have been colorful, but anyone could see the work that went into the dress. Dean had seen it firsthand, watching her attach chain after chain of grey duct tape loops to the smooth bodice. Benny’s dress looked simply by comparison, a sheath dress in shiny black; and it looked like he’d replaced the white detailing with silver. Must have had last minute reservations about the contrast or something.

The last model to walk was Jo’s. Dean actually liked her dress a lot; it had a layered white skirt, but the bodice was detailed with brightly colored flowers. It was the proper way to use crazy colors in a look without going overboard, that was for sure.

Once Jo’s model had left the runway, the music faded off and the judges wrote furiously on their notecards and murmured amongst themselves. Finally, Gabriel had all the designers line up on the runway. The moment of truth; no matter how he felt like he did, Dean knew he would always stand up here expecting to hear his name called for the bottom three.

“If I call your name, please step forward,” Gabriel said, pausing dramatically before he began reading off the names, a pause between each one. “Ruby, Benny, Meg, Dean, Balthazar, and Sarah.”

Dean stepped forward when his name was called, holding his breath, and Gabriel smiled.

“If I have not called your name…congratulations. You’re safe and may return to your seats,” he said, and Dean looked around at who remained on stage. He thought he might be in the top three, but then again, Paris Hilton was a judge. He couldn’t be sure of anything.

“Ruby, Dean, Meg…you have the three highest scores,” Gabriel said, and Dean felt his shoulders sag a little with relief. “That means Sarah, Benny, and Balthazar, you have the lowest scores. Let’s bring out your models.”

On cue, the six models came out to the runway, Jessica giving Dean one of her bright smiles before turning to face the judges. As usual, they started with the top three scores.

“Meg. Tell us about your look,” Gabriel said, and Meg smirked and turned to her dress.

“It’s similar to what I wore to prom, only, you know. In tape,” she said, holding out the skirt. “I just folded the tape into strips, cut them, then weaved them together on a tape backing to keep them in place.”

“I’m frankly amazed at the amount of intricacy in this look when you only had two days to complete it,” Naomi said, shaking her head. “I’m impressed. It’s a beautiful gown.”

“I love the color choice. Red is always good for the wow factor,” Crowley pointed out, and Gabriel nodded.

“Color really made this dress just that much more impressive. It was a good choice.”

“I would wear this dress, for sure,” Paris pointed out. “Even if it’s a prom dress, I don’t care. I love it.”

“Thank you,” Meg said, and while most people in her position might look happy or thankful, she just looked…smug. Dean wasn’t surprised.

“Ruby. Tell us, where did you come up with the idea for this one?” Gabriel asked Ruby, and she smiled sweetly.

“I just saw the colors, and it reminded me of the local butterfly garden. I saw a butterfly there with these colors, and I’ve always wanted to do something fun with it.”

“Well, it’s certainly fun, but I do worry if it might be a little too gimmicky. Over the top,” Naomi pointed out, and Paris shook her head.

“No way. I love the story behind it, I think it’s sweet. I don’t think it’s gimmicky at all,” she said, and Gabriel nodded.

“Sometimes I like things a little more abstract, but this dress works, in my opinion.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree a little, then,” Crowley said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s beautifully made, and it’s a pretty dress, but I do agree that it’s a bit…literal. Well done, though.”

“Dean,” Gabriel said, and Dean turned his attention back to the judges from where he’d been studying Ruby’s dress. “Tell us about your look.”

“Well, I’ve made a lot of prom dresses. And most of them have the huge skirts, so I kind of got tired of that. I decided to do something a little more sleek, a little more streamlined,” he said, and Naomi nodded.

“It certainly is sleek. I do worry about the appropriateness of it, considering the age group in question,” she said, and Dean shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s a little low on the top, but I liked it that way. I would have had to sacrifice other detailing to have time to change the top.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Paris said, studying the dress carefully. “I mean, it’s not totally prom-dressy, but I could totally wear this. I like the design down the front of the skirt.”

“And you do know how to do a perfect fit on a woman’s body, I’ll give you that,” Crowley pointed out, and Dean smiled a little wider, because hell if that wasn’t a great compliment- some designers struggled with fit for years. 

“Thank you,” Dean said. Gabriel turned to Benny, flipping to the next set of cards and eyeing the black dress closely.

“Benny. Is your girl going to prom, or to the AVN Awards?” he asked, and to his credit, Benny didn’t bat an eyelash at the jab.

“Didn’t quite turn out like I planned it to. Thought the silver would do more to take away from the black,” he said, and Crowley chuckled.

“All she needs is a set of thigh high boots and a whip, and this is no longer a family friendly show.”

Gabriel grinned. “Oh, I think Balthazar already took care of that last week,” he said, earning angry glares from the other judges and a few crew members.

“It’s a really misguided effort, darling,” Naomi said, and Benny nodded as they moved on to the next on their victim list, which happened to be poor Sarah.

“Sarah. Please, do explain. We’re all dying to know about this dress,” Gabriel said, and Dean could already see the lines of defeat in her face and her sagging shoulders.

“I wanted to do something new and eye catching with the colors,” she said, tugging at a ruffle. “I realized after the first day that it was a bit much, but it was too late to start over, so…I decided to go with it.”

“Oh, you went with it. Right over a cliff, I think,” Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at the dress. “The colors are unfortunate enough, but then you went overboard trying to make up for the colors by adding ruffles and bows that, quite frankly, make it worse.”

Paris nodded. “Sorry, honey, but this is really kind of hideous. Just saying,” she said, and Sarah nodded and looked down, resigned to the fact that she had bombed, badly. 

The last person they spoke to was Balthazar, who obviously had no shame and no worries about being in the bottom. “I made this dress for a girl with no fear,” he said proudly. “It’s daring. It’s not mainstream. She’ll be the center of attention.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Yeah, the center of attention for having the word ‘DANGER’ right over her crotch. She’s like a walking STD warning,” he said, and Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh. 

“There are ways this could have been done with more subtlety. And less skin showing,” Naomi pointed out, only getting an eye roll in return. Paris, though, tilted her head at the dress curiously.

“I don’t know, if it were tweaked a little, I would wear it. I think it’s hip.”

“Oh dear Christ,” Balthazar muttered, following it up with something that sounded like ‘now I have to burn the bloody thing’, but his microphone didn’t catch it. Lucky for him, Paris hadn’t noticed, either.

“Alright, designers. Please leave the runway, and we’ll call you back when we’re ready to make our decision,” Gabriel said, and the designers slowly filed out to the waiting room, where couches and snacks were set up. 

Everyone seemed to just collapse after the full day of stress and last minute alterations. Dean was just relieved he was safe again for the second week in a row, after he hadn’t expected to last one week. And not only safe, but in the top three both times.

“Congratulations on beating all the expectations everyone had for a mechanic from Kansas,” Balthazar said, holding up a soda in a mock toast before taking a swig, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t get here by showing them cars, you know,” he muttered, the ‘mechanic’ thing already getting old, with everyone poking fun about it. Luckily, Kevin took the attention off him.

“I’m sick of being safe. I can’t win by being safe,” Kevin complained, lying down with his head on Jo’s lap. She nearly laughed.

“Yeah, I hear you. Being just safe sucks,” she said, and Sarah groaned.

“I would kill for just safe right about now. This sucks.”

Dean was just happy the conversation wasn’t about him anymore, and he was happy to leave it like that. He caught Castiel’s eye, and the man gave him a quick smile before looking back down at his glass of water. 

It was just as long a wait as last time. By the time they were called back out, they had sprawled all over the couch and floor and were playing a rigged game of I Spy that Balthazar insisted on cheating on. They were definitely alert, though, when the PA told them to go back out to the runway.

Dean took his place with the other five in the highest and lowest scores, the other designers in the seats off the runway as the judges waited for everyone to get into place.

“Good job this week, designers. As a general rule, we were impressed,” Gabriel said. “And now, the important part. First…Dean, you are safe.”

Dean smiled and nodded. He wasn’t surprised; he hadn’t honestly been expecting to win. Gabriel looked at Ruby, letting them sweat for a few more seconds. 

“Ruby…you are also safe. Which means that Meg is the winner of this challenge!”

The designers clapped halfheartedly as Meg did a good job of faking surprise and thanking the judges. Gabriel made quick work of informing her that she had immunity before shifting his attention to the bottom three.

“Balthazar…you are safe,” he said, and Balthazar nodded like it was well deserved. Gabriel looked first at Benny, then at Sarah. “Benny…your look lacked taste, and wasn’t anything to write home about in style or silhouette. Sarah, you had the opposite problem; you gave us way, way too much.”

The pauses were even longer than they felt on TV. Gabriel let them worry for what felt like a full minute before he finally spoke again.

“Sarah…I’m sorry, but you’re out,” he said, and she swallowed hard and nodded.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” she said with a smile, and the judges dismissed them, sending all the designers back to the waiting room, where Tim was waiting for them.

“Sarah,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “You’re a talented designer. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of your work. But for now, I’ve got to send you to clean up your space.”

She nodded, chin held high as she smiled and made the rounds giving hugs to everyone. Dean felt a little bad for not getting to know her better before she left, but he did only have three days. In TV-world these challenges were portrayed as once a week- but it had been three days, and the first two challenges were already done.

Sarah left with one of the PAs, and Tim turned to the rest of the group. “Same routine as last time, designers. They’ll call you back one at a time to do your confessional, and then I’d like to treat you all to dinner as congratulations for surviving your first two challenges. Sound good?”

Hell yes, it sounded good. Dean would have killed for some food that wasn’t mass-produced and frozen right about now. But first, there was the long wait while confessionals happened, made worse by the fact that they were ‘on ice’ and ordered not to speak to each other till confessionals were over- and it was worst for him, he felt, because he was the first called back.

He had to get used to the setup again- answering in present tense, talking to the camera and not the producer asking the questions, all that awkward shit. He was caught off guard, though, when the producer had finished the recap and moved on to other, random questions.

“What do you say to the fact that Meg and Ruby have been saying that you’ve only gotten this far by luck, and have no business being here? They’re convinced you’ll fold in the first fabric challenge,” the producer said, and Dean gave him a look of disbelief.

“What?”

The producer pointed to the camera. “Camera, not me.”

Dean didn’t want to look at the camera. He wanted to punch it. But he took a deep breath and looked back at the lens before speaking. “I think we all got here based on genuine talent, and that will show in every challenge. I don’t think anyone here didn’t get here fairly. They’re all great designers.”

“Especially Castiel, right?”

Dean broke protocol and looked at the guy again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Camera, Dean.”

“Dude, fuck the camera.”

“Please don’t,” the cameraman squeaked, which completely ruined the mood considering it made everyone in the room crack the hell up, resulting in the disgruntled producer telling Dean he could go. He went back out to the waiting room, deliberately avoiding looking at Ruby or Meg as he found a seat between Kevin and Castiel. He couldn’t complain to them out loud, but they both could definitely tell that he was mad about something, because they both gave him looks that were equal parts supportive and curious.

He did know one thing- on this next challenge, he was going to kick Meg and Ruby’s asses at whatever they did. He didn’t care what the challenge was, he would take them the fuck down.

*~~~~~~*

By the time everyone finished with confessionals, they were all starving. Luckily the restaurant Tim had reserved for them was less than a block away, and it wasn’t a suit and tie place; it was an all-American upscale diner, which seemed to please Castiel beyond measure. He and Dean sat with Jo, Charlie, Benny, Jody, and Kevin at one end of the table, where Castiel practically inhaled a cheeseburger out of sheer delight.

“You have a fetish for burgers or something,” he said as Castiel licked ketchup off the tips of his fingers, which was entirely unnecessary and distracting, by the way, and Dean totally wasn’t staring. Or maybe he was staring a little till he noticed the cameraman had the camera aimed right at his face.

“I just like them,” Castiel said, blushing a little.

“Hey, Clarence,” Meg called from the other end of the table with a smirk. “You’re a designer, you know. You don’t have to sit at the misfit end of the table.”

Dean was all ready to stand up for Castiel, ready to put Meg in her place; but it turned out that he didn’t need to. Castiel raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes skimming over Balthazar and Ruby before he shrugged.

“Designer, yes. But I don’t think I fit the other requirement for that end of the table, which seems to be extreme arrogance.”

Jody nearly inhaled milkshake when that remark came out of Castiel, of all people, and Dean had to admit he probably gaped a little. Castiel went back to eating his fries even as Meg glared daggers at him, though Balthazar actually looked amused by it; probably because Balthazar had no illusions that he wasn’t an arrogant asshole. He seemed to take pride in it.

It seemed the battle lines had been drawn- and Dean, for one, knew he was on the right team here.

And tomorrow, he was going to kick the other team’s ass with some fabric and a pair of scissors. He wanted to see their faces when the ‘mechanic’ wiped the floor with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pictures for this week's garments (as per usual, makeup/model not applicable, garments may not be completely exact, and opinions of fictional judges are, as always, subjective):
> 
> [Meg](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Meg_zps85b95276.jpg)
> 
> [Ruby](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Ruby_zps4fa9c186.jpg)
> 
> [Dean](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Dean_zps3cb63b94.jpg)
> 
> [Jo](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Jo_zps48939ae6.jpg)
> 
> [Charlie](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Charlie_zps88bd7bc6.jpg)
> 
> [Castiel](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Castiel_zpsc235bab2.jpg)
> 
> [Jody](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Jody_zpseb46ca93.jpg)
> 
> [Kevin](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Kevin_zps3cd75034.jpg)
> 
> [Balthazar](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Balthazar_zps32d40f8f.jpg)
> 
> [Benny](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Benny_zpsa9e0ee53.jpg)
> 
> [Sarah](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/Sarah_zps72359ad9.jpg)


	4. To The Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally get to use fabric! But hey, it wouldn't be All Star Designer without a twist. And as all of this happens, Dean meets his pint sized archenemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of update last week. I have not been well, and have been dealing with awful doctors. Things should be back on schedule now.

To say that the atmosphere at the runway meeting the next morning was icy would be a massive understatement.

 

Dean was pissed off at Ruby and Meg for talking shit about him in confessionals, Ruby and Meg were mad at Castiel for giving them the brush off at dinner, and some people were trying desperately to stay completely neutral and out of the conflict. Balthazar, meanwhile, didn’t seem to give a shit what kind of infighting was going on; Dean almost wished he could be that laissez faire about the whole thing.

 

Luckily, they didn’t have to sit there and stew in the awkward situation for too long before Gabriel came out onto the runway. Dean was actually looking forward to a challenge for once- not only would it be a distraction from the crap going on behind the scenes, but he planned to win this one. No ifs, ands, or buts; he was going to prove to the other designers that he’d gotten here on talent and not just for the diversity, not for the ratings grab that would result from sticking someone on here that was so un-designer like.

 

“Good morning designers! Sleep well?” Gabriel asked, and he got the usual muttering in reply. “Well, I’ll bet you guys are dying to get your hands on some real fabric.”

 

“Damn right,” Balthazar muttered, and Dean smiled. Yeah, he could agree with that.

 

“Well, it just so happens that we have an event coming up, and your models need something to wear,” Gabriel said with a grin. “And not just any event, but an industry garden party. Anyone who’s anyone among designers and models is going to be there, and that means that your model will need to stand out in the best way possible.”

 

An industry party- he could manage that. He knew Jessica’s body type, knew what she looked best in; he was confident that he could send her off to that party knowing that she would attract some good attention. It seemed like everyone was a little more alert now, their minds already churning with ideas.

 

“Tim has more information for you upstairs. I will see you soon, designers. Good luck!” Gabriel said, turning and leaving the runway with a skip in his step.

 

He was hiding something, Dean knew it.

 

They didn’t waste time in getting upstairs; all of them wanted to get started sketching and find out their budget. Tim stood waiting for them by the tables, and waited for them to gather around one before he started.

 

“So, as Gabriel said, you are making a dress for your model to attend an industry party,” he said, and Dean felt a ‘but’ coming. “What he didn’t tell you is that you will be attending this party with your model, and you will be expected to market your design. The partygoers are going to vote on their favorite look, and those votes will be part of your judging scores this week.”

 

Oh, great.

 

He was going to have to try and impress people. People that were more high society than him, no less. Hell, he was lucky that Tim and the producer hadn’t kicked him out the door at the auditions the second he said he distressed leather by running it over; what would he say to ruin his chances at a party?

 

He wasn’t the only one who looked a little sick at the thought, though. That made him feel a little better. Not much.

 

“That said, you’ll have thirty minutes to sketch, and then we’re taking our first trip to Swatches to buy fabric. You’ll have a$150 budget, and until midnight tonight to finish. Get started sketching!” Tim said, and Dean went back to his workstation and pulled his sketchbook close.

 

He wasn’t used to sketching out something without a teenage girl looking over his shoulder, telling him to ‘add flowers there’ or ‘more glitter!’ It was kind of nice to be able to just draw what came to mind, even though he knew his idea would likely start changing the second he got his hands on the right fabric. So he didn’t take it too seriously- he jotted down a basic design, maybe some ruching and shaping, just to get an idea of how much fabric he would need. By the time Tim told them sketching time was up, he didn’t have anything completely concrete and it didn’t really bother him.

 

Once again they were loaded into two white vans outside Brighton’s, even though the store was only a few blocks away. Not that he was complaining; that meant more time for sewing. But he was confused when they pulled up outside the store, and another white van pulled up behind them- and when they got out, Zachariah and Sarah got out of the other van.

 

“Why are they here…?” he asked Charlie as they walked into the store, which had a ‘closed sign’ on the front, listing the hour they’d be closing the store for filming.

 

“They always take the eliminated designers on the outings and to Swatches,” Charlie explained softly. “That was if anyone’s on the street watching, they can’t snap a picture and post it online and figure out who’s out.”

 

Well, that made sense. It also made Dean not want to be out like, ever, because he couldn’t imagine having to tag along and watch the other designers keep going in the competition. A PA led Zachariah and Sarah off somewhere else in the store as soon as the doors were closed, and then Tim lined the remaining designers up and handed out the envelopes containing their cash.

 

“You’ll have thirty minutes to shop. When that thirty minutes is up, you must have all your fabric cut and be in line at the register to check out,” he explained. “Swatches employees will be posted on all three floors to help you. If you need to know where a type of fabric is, ask them. They’ll also take fabric to be cut for you if you need to keep looking.”

 

Three floors? Dean looked past Tim at the sheer amount of giant bolts of fabric just on this first floor, along with the massive shelving units full of notions and trims; beyond that he could see the stairs, and more shelves of fabric at the top of said stairs.

 

Three huge floors, hundreds of kinds of fabric.

 

No way would thirty minutes be enough.

 

Dean realized that he was being stared at; he looked down, and there was a tiny dog-rat thing staring up at him, a mostly hairless animal with puffs of fur on its ears and feet, and Dean shifted uncomfortably. It continued to stare, the bandana around its neck nearly sparkling in the light, obviously made of some ridiculously expensive fabric.

 

“Don’t mind Chiffon. He’s the store mascot,” Tim said with a chuckle. “Are you all ready to go?”

 

No. Dean would never be ready. And the dog thing was still staring at him.

 

“Okay, your time starts…now!”

 

Damnit.

 

He didn’t know where to start; the second he reached the rows upon rows of fabric, he was overwhelmed, and it didn’t help that there was a camera following right behind him. He was used to tiny fabric shops, maybe a hundred kinds of fabric at most, and even in those he could spend hours. If he’d needed any special fabrics back home, he ordered them off the internet. Here, there were probably five hundred fabrics just on this floor.

 

For now, he needed to stick with what he was good at. He could branch out later when the judges expected to see different things, but since this was the first challenge using actual fabric, he needed to show off a little.

 

Satin. A whole long row of dozens of colors of satin; he was good with satin. This was doable. In the wrong hands satin could look cheap as fuck, but he’d worked with satin so much it was one of his easiest fabrics. He could throw together a basic satin dress in his sleep, which meant he would only have to worry about the extraneous things, like the ruching and embellishments.

 

He scanned the bolts as quickly as possible, passing over the bright red- too risky- and the pink, which was not a color that he could make look good at any kind of serious event. He stopped and knelt down when he spotted a bolt of dark blue satin, a navy color that wasn’t too shiny. The price wasn’t bad, either.

 

He pulled on the bolt, and fuck, these bolts were _huge_ , much longer and heavier than the bolts of fabric he normally dealt with. He hefted it onto his shoulder and walked back to the aisle, where one of the employees was waiting, a girl who couldn’t be over five feet tall and 90 pounds dripping wet.

 

“Need that cut?” she asked with a bright smile, holding out her hands, and Dean hesitated before hefting the bolt of fabric off his shoulder.

 

“Sure. Um, five yards, please,” he said, certain that that would give him enough extra fabric in case he messed something up horribly. “Be careful, it’s heavy.”

 

The girl lifted the bolt onto her own shoulder like it was made of feathers, gave him a wink, and then was off toward the cutting tables. Okay, now he felt like a wimp, too. And kind of a jerk.

 

“Twenty minutes, designers!” he heard Tim yell, and he snapped out of his momentary daze and headed for the trims. Blue satin alone wouldn’t cut it; it needed a kick.

 

There was an entire wall of different trims, all rolled onto the plastic spools and neatly tucked onto the shelves. Dean kept the shade of blue he’d picked at the front of his mind, scanning each shelf and turning down each trim one by one. It had to be perfect., and he wasn’t touching most of these fringes, especially not the ones that would make it look like a flapper dress.

 

One caught his eye; it wasn’t easy to miss. It was a long, thick trim adorned with circular metallic embellishments that caught the light, and when he picked up the spool and unwound a bit, it really moved well. This was it; a little bit of a risk, maybe, but it was exactly what it needed considering the satin was a solid color. He would just have to find a way to work it into the design without going overboard; too much of this could overwhelm the fabric.

 

Too much of it could overwhelm his budget, too. Ouch. He winced at the price tag, doing some mental math to figure out how much he could actually afford and still have money left for notions.

 

He took it back to the cutting table, where the girl was just finishing cutting his fabric, and he slid the spool over to her. “Three yards of this, please,” he said, and then he jumped when a bolt of fabric thudded down on the table next to him- a bolt of hot pink silk. It was retina-searing.

 

“Four yards, my good man,” Balthazar said, sliding it to the other employee who was standing ready to cut. Dean didn’t even know what to say- he just looked at the fabric in what was probably plain horror, looked up at Balthazar, and then back at the fabric.

 

Balthazar just smirked. ”No sense of adventure, Winchester?”

 

“I…don’t know what I’d call that, but it sure wouldn’t be ‘adventure’,” Dean pointed out, but Balthazar was undeterred.

 

Luckily, Dean got an excuse to get far, far away from that hideous fabric; the girl slid his own fabric and trim across the table to him with a smile and a ‘good luck’, and he thanked her and headed straight for the notions. He wasn’t going to screw himself by forgetting the fucking zipper and hem tape, that was for damn sure. And a hook and eye, just to be safe.

 

He’d just gotten into the line when Tim called time, and he let out a sigh of relief. The first shopping trip hadn’t been a disaster. And unlike a couple other people, he actually came up a little under budget, at just under 140 dollars.

 

It was a few minutes of waiting for everyone to get checked out, and three people had gone over budget and had to make a last minute decision. One of those was Charlie; Dean couldn’t see what she had on the counter, but whatever it was, it was 17 dollars a yard. She was eight dollars over budget, and trying to decide what to put back.

 

“Hey, Tim…can I donate my change to another designer?” he asked, and Tim smiled.

 

“Absolutely. Hasn’t happened often, though.”

 

Well, it was about to happen again. Dean tugged the ten dollar bill out of his envelope and leaned by Charlie a little to slide it across the counter to the person running the cash register.

 

Charlie grinned and hugged him so tight he thought he felt his spine pop. “You’re the greatest, Dean! I owe you. I’ll sneak booze into your apartment or something,” she declared, and while Dean appreciated the gesture, he was pretty sure that was something she wouldn’t be able to pull off. They were monitored like convicts everywhere they went.

 

As soon as everyone was done buying their supplies, Tim told them to line up again with their bags.

 

…that damn dog thing was staring again. Dean tried to ignore it, but he could feel its gaze still on him.

 

“Well, designers, it wouldn’t be All Star Designer without a twist,” Tim said, and Dean froze, his stomach dropping. A twist? They had until midnight to finish a dress that would impress some really fucking important people, and there was a twist?

 

“I would like each of you to pass your Swatches bag to the person on your left,” Tim continued, and Dean’s dread deepened. Now they were using someone else’s fabric choice?

 

He turned to his left and had a small measure of relief; at least he was standing next to Charlie and not Balthazar. Charlie handed over the bag with an apologetic shrug, and Dean turned and passed his own bag to the person on his other side- which turned out to be Meg.

 

He really hoped she hated satin.

 

“Alright. You can look at your new fabric when we get back to the workroom,” Tim said, clapping his hands together and leading the way toward the door. The dog rat thing followed them to the door, watching them closely as they left and piled back into the vans.

 

“You didn’t get like…neoprene, right?” Dean asked Charlie as the vans pulled away from the curb, and she laughed.

 

“Not neoprene. Still don’t know if you’ll like it, though.”

 

“Comforting. At least I know it was expensive,” he teased, sharing a look with Castiel, who was glaring at his bag like it had personally offended him. Dean couldn’t blame him. “Cas, whose fabric did you get?”

 

“Kevin’s,” Castiel said, giving the younger designer a wary look, as if he imagined a bag full of crushed velvet and scorpions.

 

“Yeah, well, I got Ruby’s. I’d like to think you prefer getting my fabric over hers,” Kevin pointed out, and Castiel only hesitated a second before chuckling.

 

“That, you’re right about.”

 

Nobody waited long before dumping the contents of their new bags out on their workstation when they got back to the workroom. Dean felt his heart drop and he took a long, slow breath when he saw what he’d be working with- a bright red soft jersey fabric, and a lot of matching red lace.

 

Jesus Christ, Jessica was going to look like a lingerie model at that party.

 

“Charlie, what were you planning to _make_?” he asked, turning around and giving her a look. She laughed and shrugged.

 

“I like lacy things, so sue me,” she said, holding up a bundle of lavender colored tulle. “And at least you didn’t get ballet queen material.”

 

“It was not going to be a tutu,” Castiel muttered, his own workstation covered in black tulle, black cotton, and…was that black patent leather?

 

“At least you didn’t get Balthazar’s,” Dean pointed out, looking around to try and see who did end up with that mess. Turned out, he only had to look forward- poor Benny was the one saddled with the amalgamation of hot pink materials.

 

“Benny, man, I’m sorry,” Dean said, and he really meant it, because no one deserved that. Benny just laughed.

 

“I’ll make do, brother. I always do.”

 

Dean sighed again and pulled his sketchbook back to the edge of the table, studying his rough sketch- and then tearing it out and balling it up. It wouldn’t work with this fabric, not in the least. He was still determined to win this one, and if he had to do it with some red lace, he would find a way.

 

He started sketching, stopping to unfold the material and see how much he was working with- not enough for his comfort. There wouldn’t be room for error; when you had to buy expensive lace for a project, you had to cut corners on your budget. After a half hour or so he finally had an idea he thought might work- a mid-thigh sleeveless scoop neck red dress with the red lace overlaid over the top, and red lace long sleeves. Hopefully, the long sleeves would be enough to counter the tendency to look like lingerie, without tipping the scale all the way to old fashioned. At least the lace was red and not white or off-white, which would have added ‘bridal’ to the list of things he desperately needed to avoid.

 

He decided to get the jersey cloth dress done first, and get it done as quickly as he could. He rarely worked with lace, so he’d need all the time he could spare for the lace overlay; he was used to doing lace detailing, but not an overlay for an entire dress. He set to work with his pattern paper, the room mostly silent as everyone began to work.

 

Silent, except for the occasional muttering from Meg, who evidently thought Dean’s choice in fabric had been ‘shitty and cheap’. Served her right.

 

It didn’t take long to cut the pattern, and then cut the fabric accordingly. The basic dress itself was simple, and in no time Dean was taking his work back to the sewing room, picking out one of the sewing machines and turning it on.

 

It was definitely a step up from the one he had back home. Okay, more like fifty steps up. He had to take a few minutes to get used to it, sewing on a scrap piece of fabric at first to see how sensitive the pedal was, and then he set to work on the dress.

 

It wasn’t long before he decided that whether or not he won, he still wanted one of these for his house.

 

He was just coming back into the workroom with only hand sewn details left to finish when Charlie grabbed his arm. “Lunchtime!” she said cheerfully, and Dean was more than willing to give his mind a rest; Charlie convinced Benny, Jo, Kevin, and Castiel to join them, and they all went to the break room, where instead of sandwiches there was Chinese food waiting for them.

 

“I can’t believe I got your girly fabric, Cas,” Charlie muttered, and Dean rolled his eyes as he filled his plate.

 

“You had 5 yards of _lace_ , Charlie.”

 

“Lace can be hardcore!”

 

“Yeah, maybe hardcore _porn_.”

 

“Children, break it up,” Kevin said with a laugh. “At least they didn’t give us sandwiches again.”

 

Everyone was taking advantage; they all came back to the couches with a full plate of food, though while Castiel and Kevin opted for chopsticks, the rest of them stuck with forks. Dean couldn’t afford to take a three-hour lunch break trying to use sticks to eat his food.

 

“Meg’s not doing good,” Jo pointed out with a smirk; being on the other side of the room, she had a good angle on Meg’s table. “Which is hilarious, because she’s mad at you for getting her stuck with satin when she just got a more expensive satin that I ended up stuck with. I think she’s just mad she got your fabric at all.”

 

“No one’s allowed to complain about the fabric they got,” Benny muttered, stabbing at a piece of chicken rather violently.

 

“Sorry you ended up with Life Size Barbie material,” Charlie said, giving him a sympathetic look. “But hey, if you pull it off, they’ll be that much more impressed!”

 

Somehow, Benny didn’t seem convinced. Dean moved the topic on to teasing Castiel about ending up with enough patent leather to make an S&M harness or something, though Kevin was quick to point out that he did not pick out patent leather with porn in mind.

 

Unfortunately, they couldn’t stay out here and just chat forever. Dean had the entire lace overlay of his dress to do, so as soon as he finished his food he went back to work, finishing the final details on the base dress before setting it aside.

 

He’d just started cutting the lace when Tim came by to see how they were doing, and honestly, Dean was relieved. He didn’t know if he’d done enough editing of the design to save it from being plain raunchy, and a fresh set of eyes on the piece couldn’t hurt.

 

Poor Benny got his critique first, though. The first thing Tim did was the very same thing Dean had done when he saw the fabric; he stood and stared at it, as if waiting for it to come alive and crawl off the table.

 

“I know, it’s bad,” Benny said with a chuckle, and Tim laughed.

 

“You’re certainly starting with a handicap. What do you have done so far?”

 

Benny turned his dress form around, blue tape outlining where he planned to pin the neckline. “Gonna do a sweetheart neckline with a sheer overlay for the straps and back. Might use some more of the tulle over the skirt, I…I’m not sure yet. Not sure of much of anything.”

 

Tim studied the fabric for a few more moments before speaking. “The overlay sounds like it could work. I worry, though, about doing too much with the skirt. You don’t want this to end up looking like Barbie’s first prom dress.”

 

Benny nodded. “Right. Yeah, I understand. I just didn’t have enough fabric to do a whole sheathe dress, and that would’ve been…underwhelming, anyway.”

 

Tim clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “I know you can come up with something. Keep working, alright?” he said before moving on to Dean’s table, where Dean had gotten the base dress fitted onto the dress form while Tim had been critiquing Benny.

 

“I do hope you’re adding more fabric to this,” Tim said with a chuckle, and Dean nodded.

 

“Yeah. This is just the base dress. I didn’t have much of the jersey to work with, so,” he started, holding out his sketchpad to Tim. “I’m going to do a lace overlay over the whole dress, and long lace sleeves. Trying to make this look…”

 

“Not like underwear?” Tim finished, and Dean laughed nervously.

 

“Yeah. Not like underwear.”

 

Tim fell silent again; this was always the worst part, waiting as he stared at your work, waiting for the verdict that could either catapult the creative process or end in scrapping everything you’ve done so far.

 

“Well, you’re straddling a line here, but I have faith in you,” Tim finally said, setting the sketchpad down at the table. “You know what you’re aiming for, you just need to do it.”

 

Dean smiled with relief. “Got it. Carry on, right?”

 

“Carry on,” Tim agreed, moving down to Castiel’s workstation next.

 

Castiel was actually in pretty good shape; he was almost finished making a form fitting bodice out of the patent leather, and from there on it looked to be smooth sailing, because Dean knew Castiel could easily whip up an awesome skirt in the time they had left. His only disadvantage was the lack of color, but that part wasn’t his fault.

 

The first thing Tim told Charlie was that her dress looked like a bridesmaid dress- and pretty one, but still a bridesmaid dress. Right now all she had was a draped bodice and a flowy skirt, pinned and ready to sew. She dropped her forehead on the table with a groan of frustration, but recovered long enough for Tim to tell her she had some good draping going on, and adjusting the rest of the dress to fit that style might rescue it from the dreaded ‘bridesmaid’ label.

 

None of the other critiques were anything surprising, unless you counted the fact that Tim actually loved what Balthazar had done so far; Dean had never been a fan of sack dresses, but at least Balthazar had ended up with a nice coral color to use for it instead of hot pink. Both Ruby and Kevin got scolded for their dresses being a little too short and tight; Ruby had ended up with a nude fabric with a slight shine to it, and Kevin’s was nearly the same, except for the black lace overlay built into the fabric.

 

Jody’s was straddling the line between ‘statement’ and ‘costume’- she’d been handed a black wool with silver detailing and a white wool, and instead of doing the expected coat dress, she was doing more of a plain dress with a white collar. It was looking a little schoolgirl, in an odd way. Jo was quickly warned to stick to the shaping she’d started or hers would end up looking too prom- the ‘more expensive’ satin she’d gotten from Meg was a bright, vivid purple, but Jo was salvaging the intense color with decorative draping and ruching on the front.

 

But when Tim got to Meg, the tension in the room dialed up. She was crossing her arms and staring at her dress form, and while Dean couldn’t see the front of the dress, the back looked so incredibly prom that it wasn’t even funny. He’d bought the extra fabric for ruching, not to make a ball gown. 

 

“Meg, I’ll be honest…this screams Miss America to me. You’re just missing the sash and crown,” Tim pointed out, and Meg laughed.

 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you get someone else’s shitty fabric.”

 

“Everyone else is challenged by this. You’re not the only one working with unfamiliar materials,” Tim pointed out, looking at the dress again. “I would step back and seriously edit this. You don’t want to drench your model in fabric.”

 

Meg didn’t bother answering him; she just sighed and went back to work, and Tim walked back to the middle of the room.

 

“Designers, your models will be here shortly after dinner for their fitting. Tomorrow morning you will only have two hours for hair and makeup, so you need to make sure that your garment is as close to finished as it can possibly be when you leave tonight,” he announced. “I have faith in all of you, so keep working hard.”

 

Dean didn’t need a reminder to work hard. He went back to work cutting out the lace, taking his time with this part, because he couldn’t mess up with this fabric. As it was, the stuff was difficult to work with, and he cursed at it more than once as he tried to find a way to make the stuff cooperate.

 

“Dean, here,” Castiel said, and Dean jumped, not expecting to hear his voice from right behind him. He looked up and Castiel was holding out a can to him, and he gave it a suspicious look.

 

“…is that hairspray?”

 

Castiel chuckled, and then held out his hand toward the lace. “May I?”

 

If anyone else asked, Dean may have thought a few seconds longer before handing it over. As it was, he held the lace out to Castiel, and he spread the pieces out on Dean’s table carefully.

 

“You’ll want to wipe down your table after this,” he said, and then he began spraying a light coating onto the pieces, working slowly and thoroughly. “This is starch spray. It’ll stiffen up the lace for you, make it easier to work with.”

 

Dean leaned forward on the table, watching him work. “You use lace a lot?”

 

“All the time. I think it’s underrated in modern use,” Castiel said with a nod, finishing up with the last piece and looking back at Dean. And yeah, they were a little close, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to care- that is, not until a camera moved in close, and Castiel jerked back and shifted awkwardly.

 

“Well, I…you can borrow it, anytime you need it. I figured other people might not bring any, so…” he said, backing up toward his table. Dean gave him a smile.

 

“Thanks, Cas. I appreciate it.”

 

Castiel just returned the smile before going back to his own work, and Charlie cleared her throat loudly- and when Dean turned to look at her, she grinned and winked. Dean grabbed his balled up sketch from earlier and lobbed it at her face, to which she just laughed and batted it away.

 

He wasn’t going to survive this challenge, let alone the whole show. He was sure of it.

 

It seemed like nobody ate dinner at the same time. Each of them found ten minutes or so away from their work to shovel in the required meal before getting right back to it- Dean was still working on the main bulk of the lace dress, and hadn’t even gotten to the sleeves yet. Even with Castiel’s trick, the lace was finicky and difficult to work with.

 

But by the time Jessica showed up for a fitting, he had a decent amount to try on her- luckily the lace had at least a little give to it, so if he made it a little too tight in the sleeves, it would stretch just enough. He helped her into the jersey dress, then began pinning the lace over it and having a look at the progress.

 

“Think I’m actually going to leave the lace hem a few inches longer than the jersey,” he said, stepping back and looking her up and down. Right now it still looked a little too Frederick’s of Hollywood for his taste, but hopefully the sleeves would change that. He was beginning to wonder if he’d even be safe, let alone win the challenge, if he didn’t play this right.

 

“I think it’s going to be classy,” Jessica said, and Dean laughed, carefully pinning the lace to the jersey neckline.

 

“Well, if you say so, then we’re set,” he teased, though he was a little relieved that it at least passed Jessica’s inspection so far. He had the feeling if something was bad, she would tell him. Loudly.

 

“Alright, you can shimmy out of that now. Don’t stab yourself with the pins,” he said. The chatter of the models was filling the room- normally they weren’t this talkative with each other during fittings, but they were all excited about the party. It was just as big a deal for them as it was for the designers.

 

It was yet another reason to feel bad for Benny and his model. Dean wished he had time to lend the guy a hand, to try and salvage it somehow, but he was down to the wire on his own work. As it was, Benny’s dress looked like an unfortunate pink explosion on his slender model; Dean would have definitely stuck with a plain fitted skirt, even if it was a little boring. He only got a glimpse of Meg’s, but there was still way too much fabric involved- he could tell that from across the room.

 

“Alright, don’t set it on fire before tomorrow or anything,” Jessica said sternly as she handed the dress back to him and pulled her jeans and t-shirt back on. “The guy who runs Paragon Model Management is going to be there, and I am going to get his attention, one way or another.”

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make you look good,” Dean said with a smile, giving her a half hug before she and the other models had to leave.

 

Back to the grindstone, with only a few hours left to go.

 

He wasn’t in as bad of shape as some of the others when the clock hit midnight. He had both sleeves finished and one attached; he would just have to attach the other sleeve and make the final adjustments in the scant time he would have while Jessica was in hair and makeup. It seemed like every challenge was going to end up that way, with him throwing frantic directions at a poor stylist before running back to finish a hem or a sleeve.

 

There was almost no chatter on the way back to the Saturn apartments; Dean walked a little behind the group, falling into step beside Castiel.

 

“You doing okay on time?” Dean asked him, and Castiel shrugged.

 

“Won’t have all the time that I’d like, but…it’ll get done.”

 

“Same here. If there’s a disaster in the morning, my model is going to be trying to bring back the one sleeve fashion statement.”

 

That at least earned a smile from Castiel, but both of them were too exhausted to make any more small talk. Dean barely convinced himself to take the time to change into pajamas before collapsing into bed, dreading the 8am wakeup call.

 

*~~~~~~*

 

The lack of sleep was catching up with all of them; Jo knocked over her dress form twice and Dean stabbed himself with a needle hard enough to bleed before the models even got there the next morning. And it was only took the models ten minutes to get there.

 

The moment Jessica walked in, Dean was turning her around and grabbing her by the hand to lead her up to the salon. He didn’t want anything too sexy that would accentuate the tendency toward overly sexy in the outfit, so her told the guy to do a messy, curly updo, something simple and effortless. That done, he returned to the workroom and went back to attaching the remaining sleeve, this time forcing himself to work a little slower so he didn’t risk bleeding all over the garment.

 

He could see it now; talking with a top designer and explaining how the blood stains are totally there on purpose because they give the piece character. Who knows, that kind of thing might actually go over well in these social circles; they seemed to go through those phases when they wanted everything to be ‘gritty’ and ‘edgy’.

 

It seemed like five minutes later that Jessica returned, when it had actually been a little over an hour, and he stepped away long enough to instruct the makeup artists on what he wanted- mascara, subtle eyeliner, nothing crazy. It was a lunch party, after all, not a nightclub; a smoky eye would look a little too sexy, between the dress and the event.

 

He’d just finished attaching the sleeve and adjusting the hems at the wrists when Jessica came back, with five minutes to spare before Tim came to get them. Dean got her into the dress and set to work clipping threads and checking seams, which he was still doing when Tim announced that it was time to go.

 

He stood up and gave the dress one more long look; he’d done the best he could, really, and he was damn proud. If the judges didn’t like it, well, he couldn’t win their admiration every time.

 

“It’s great, Dean. They’ll love it,” Jessica insisted, looping her arm through his and practically dragging him toward the door. “No more fixing. Let’s do this. We’ll knock their socks off.”

 

She had more confidence than he did, that was for sure.

 

Their transportation for this trip was a step up from the usual; they piled into two stretch limos, with Dean, Kevin, Ruby, Castiel, Jo, and Benny in the front limo, and the other designers plus Sarah and Zachariah into the other. Dean wished that he had more time to enjoy the amenities; there was a TV in this thing, along with a tiny refrigerator that he was sure had some kind of alcohol in it.

 

“This is too short. And the hem is scratchy,” Elizabeth, Kevin’s model, complained as the limos pulled away from Brighton’s, squirming in her seat like a five year old who didn’t get to wear the dress she wanted. “Couldn’t you have done something about this hem?”

 

“Oh my god, shut the hell up,” Benny’s model snapped, and what ensued was one of the most intense staring contests Dean had ever been witness to; eventually, though, Elizabeth turned away and scoffed, still tugging at the hem of the dress. Kevin didn’t even try to bother reasoning with her; Dean had only seen her antics a few times, but even he knew she was one of those people who just didn’t deal in reason.

 

It wasn’t far to the party location. Turns out when someone in New York City says ‘garden party’, it’s more likely to mean ‘pretty plants and grass rolled out on the roof of a really tall building’ than being in an actual garden. Tim led them into the lobby of the building, and Sarah and Zachariah were whisked away to wherever they kept the eliminated contestants on ice.

 

“Alright, remember designers, your work itself is only part of your score here. In order to earn votes, you will have to sell yourself and your dress. Personality is often the deciding factor, and could be the tipping point, even if a garment is flawed,” Tim explained, checking his watch. “You’ll have one hour to mingle, and then we’ll meet back here to go back to Brighton’s, where we’ll have the runway show as soon as we return.”

 

Well, this would be a fun day; first he would have to impress some really important industry people, then go straight to the weekly judging with little break. The stress was going to give him an early heart attack.

 

The party itself was lavish; Dean had worn his ‘nice’ jeans and a t-shirt, and he definitely wasn’t the norm here. The women were showing off their designer clothing and jewelry that was probably worth more than his yearly rent, and most of the men were in well fitting tuxes and suits. Hell, at least he knew he’d grab attention with his casual look.

 

“Shall we?” he said, offering his arm to Jessica and taking a deep breath before they waded into the thick of it. Within minutes there was a champagne glass shoved in his hand, and he was explaining to two models how he’d ended up with the materials he used for the outfit. Luckily they seemed to like it, and minutes later one of them showed up again with an older man in tow.

 

“Dean, this is Ted McCullough. He runs Paragon Model Management, my agency,” the model said, and Dean straightened up and shook Ted’s hand with a smile that he hoped didn’t look too nervous.

 

“And who’s the lovely lady?” Ted asked as he held out his hand to Jessica- and when she offered her hand, he kissed the back of it.

 

Show off.

 

“Jessica Moore,” Jessica said, obviously keeping all her excitement on a tight chain as he looked her over.

 

“It’s very well made, and you display it well,” he said, wrapping an arm back around the other model’s waist. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you two,” he added, and that quick he was gone, and Dean let out the breath he’d been holding.

 

“Hey, he liked you!” he said, and he gave Jessica a playful nudge. She smiled brightly, and probably would have jumped with joy if she weren’t in heels.

 

“Told you they’d like it.”

 

And the people here did seem to like the dress. Dean was constantly talking to someone, being introduced to other people, big name designers that sold things he couldn’t even afford to buy. It was surreal, and it was nonstop to the point where he only caught glimpses of the other designers and models lingering and chatting with people. He didn’t have any chances to eavesdrop or try to see how the other designers were doing in comparison.

 

A PA slipped through the crowd to him and told him the hour was up, and Dean gratefully headed back toward the elevators, ready for a break from talking about himself and his work. He’d never had to try and sell himself as far as his designing went; people saw his work on other people, and if they liked it, they found him. Here he was expected to straddle the fine line between highlighting his talents and bragging shamelessly. It was mentally exhausting.

 

They piled back into the limos, and no one talked on the way back to Brighton’s; they’d all been talking for an hour straight, and listening to other people talk. Dean was just over it right now. Happy, but ready for a break.

 

They didn’t get a long break. They got to sit in the designers’ chairs by the runway and wait for the lighting to be moved into position, the models waiting backstage as the judges finally filed in. Crowley and Naomi were there as usual, and the guest judge Dean immediately recognized as one of the designers from the party. Hell if he could remember the guy’s name; he’d had at least a hundred names thrown at him over the course of an hour.

 

Gabriel stepped onto the runway and gave the designers a curious look. “So, how drunk did you guys get at that shindig?”

 

“Not as drunk as I’d like to be,” Ruby pointed out. Obviously her time at the party didn’t go as well as some others, if the look on her face was anything to go by.

 

“Well, let’s hope you’re sober enough to defend your work,” Gabriel said with a smile, stepping back to gesture at the judges. “For our judging panel today, first we have Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency. Next, we have Naomi Prevot, editor in chief of Eve Magazine. And our guest judge for this week is none other than Michael Astor, a designer whose work has been featured in dozens of top magazines, and a headliner for Paris Fashion Week.”

 

Oh, yeah. That guy. Dean had heard of him, but the Astor label was far and beyond anything he’d had to concern himself with before. Michael smiled at them, but it was an almost predatory smile, more creepy than sincere.

 

“And of course, I’ll be judging your looks as well. Meg, since you won the challenge last week, you are immune and cannot be eliminated today,” Gabriel continued, and Meg managed a half smile at that. “That said, let’s get on with the show!”

 

Gabriel headed back to his seat, the lights brightened on the runway and dimmed on the seats, and the quiet music started up- it would no doubt be full volume when it aired, so this was just a placeholder.

 

The first dress to come around the screen was Balthazar’s; and really, Dean didn’t hate it. For him, that was high praise for a sack style dress. It hit her at mid-thigh, a silky coral fabric underneath with a sheer layer over the top, the kind of dress that only a nearly six foot tall model would be able to pull off. You really had to be a certain shape and look to be able to wear that without it looking unflattering.

 

Maybe they should have someone else pick Balthazar’s fabric for him for every challenge.

 

The next dress was Meg’s, and Dean had to remind himself not to wince. It looked very, very prom; a floor length navy satin gown, with a slit so high up the front that if she moved wrong the rating of the show would go up. The trim had been used sparingly, more as accent than anything else, and Dean kind of wanted to cry over the waste of expensive materials.

 

Oh well. Not his problem now.

 

Kevin’s was next, and for all her faults backstage, his model was fierce and flawless on the runway. The nude dress with a black overlay crossed over one of her shoulders, and maybe it was a smidge too short, but she worked it like it was her favorite dress in the world. So much talent, and yet Dean still couldn’t stand her. It was a mixed blessing for Kevin, having a great model, but having to put up with her constant attitude, too.

 

Ruby’s dress came next, and it was the example of what Kevin’s could have turned out like if he hadn’t been careful with the fit. The shiny nude dress pretty much looked like huge Ace bandages wrapped around her, too tight and too short. Jo’s model right after that was a breath of fresh air, comparatively. It was still a little prom-looking, but the amazing ruching and shaping on the front of the strapless dress more than made up for it, and Dean had to admit that it was definitely an eye catching color.

 

Benny’s was next, and Dean actually saw Naomi flinch like the thing had slapped her. That was never a good sign. Granted, it was definitely a mess; he’d tried to avoid being too simple and relying on the color for the wow factor, but he’d cranked the dial too far the other way instead; there was just too much, and it was all just too bright, between the silk and lace strapless bodice, the sheer fabric making up the shoulders and back of the dress, and the lace accentuated skirt that had a little too much volume to it. Benny was in trouble.

 

Charlie’s dress was subdued, the fabric showing the faintest hints of lavender to keep it from being straight white. The draping on the top was done perfectly, though it seemed she’d kept a more restrained version of the flowy skirt in place. It was everything Jody’s dress wasn’t; Jody hadn’t managed to pull the dress out of the ‘costume’ category, between the wool dress that wasn’t fitted to the model’s shape, the white collar, the white cuffs, and the white strips of fabric along the top of each pocket. It was well made, but it was still a little painful to look at.

 

And if Jody’s could be considered ‘well made’, then Castiel’s could be described as ‘tailored to perfection’, because the guy seemed to be a master at finishing his garments well. The seams were perfect, the length perfect, everything perfect. The dress itself was a little on the boring side; the patent leather bodice was the best part, and the fact that he’d formed each ruffle in the skirt and one shoulder strap to hold its oversized shape was clever, but all in all it was still a little black dress.

 

Dean’s came last, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Jessica worked it like she always did, with a little bit of sassy, confident attitude; sure, she wasn’t the tallest model or the skinniest here, but he wouldn’t trade her for any of the others.

 

With the runway show over, more waiting began. The judges huddled together, writing on their scorecards, murmuring to each other and pointing to things they’d written; it took the longest of any of the preliminary deliberations yet. Dean was pretty sure the judges just wanted to watch them squirm.

 

But then they were finally called up onto the runway, and Gabriel gathered his cards together before looking up at the line of designers.

 

“If I call your name, please step forward,” he said, glancing back down at his card before continuing. “Castiel, Ruby, Kevin, and Charlie, please step forward.”

 

Four of them. Six left. Dean knew before Gabriel even said it that those four were safe, and as they returned to their seats, he tried to keep himself convinced that he wouldn’t be among the bottom three.

 

Unless he hadn’t managed to yank the dress over the line from ‘Victoria’s Secret’ runway to ‘fancy party’ runway.

 

“Our top three this week are Balthazar, Jo, and Dean,” Gabriel said, and Dean felt his shoulders sag with relief. “That means that our bottom three are Benny, Jody, and Meg.”

 

He could practically feel the anger radiating from Meg; luckily, Balthazar was standing between the two of them. He was very appreciative of the buffer right now, as the models came out and stood beside their designers. Jessica was ecstatic like always, the serious model look wiped away in favor of her usual smile.

 

“Let’s talk to our top three first. Jo, tell us about your dress,” Gabriel said, and Jo took a deep breath and turned toward her model.

 

“Well, I’m not particularly fond of satin, but I still wanted to try the more sculptural look on the front of the dress,” she said, having the model turn a little to the side so they got to see all the angles. “It ended up a little shorter than I wanted, but overall I think it turned out pretty good.”

 

“It did indeed,” Crowley said, tapping his pen on the arm of his chair. “The construction is superb, really. There are a lot of details on the front that I missed on the runway.”

 

“I still think it’s a little too…prom, for my taste. It reads younger than your model actually is,” Naomi pointed out. “But Crowley is right, that the construction is spot on.”

 

“Love the bold color,” Gabriel pointed out, and Dean imagined the air getting heavier with Meg’s anger at that.

 

“The color is very good. It was the right fit and styling for the fabric,” Michael said. “Especially for only having one day, you did a good job. You did well at the party, too.”

 

“Thank you,” Jo said, the relief plain on her face as they moved their attention to Balthazar.

 

“This is certainly a departure from your previous works,” Naomi said, and she looked rather pleased about it, too. “I knew there was a designer in there somewhere. This is a beautiful dress.”

 

“Thank you. I’m rather happy with it myself,” Balthazar said, as if that would be a surprise to anyone. Balthazar seemed happy with everything he did, no matter what anyone else might think of it.

 

“I’m not quite convinced,” Crowley said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re going to have to prove that this wasn’t a fluke. I find it suspicious that the first challenge when you don’t choose your own material, you come up with something…classy.”

 

“I think my skills will speak for themselves in the next few challenges,” Balthazar insisted with an arrogant smirk.

 

“Well, not knowing your history here in the competition, I have to say this was one of my favorite dresses today, and you sold it well. So, good job,” Michael said, and now Dean was up. He swallowed hard and tried to stay calm, cool, and collected, which was easier said than done with the judges’ stares and the hot runway lights bearing down on you.

 

“Dean, this could have been really, really bad,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “And I don’t know how you managed it, but you somehow managed to make red lace high fashion outside of a lingerie show.”

 

Dean chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I was kind of fighting that the whole time. Did my best, though.”

 

“Well, your best had the most votes at the party today, so congratulations on that,” Michael pointed out, and Dean did a mental double take. _He_ had the most votes? Out of everyone?

 

“Wow, thanks,” he managed, taken aback by the news, but definitely in a good way.

 

“You really took her shape into consideration. The length hits her at just the right place, not short enough to look like a lace nightshirt,” Crowley pointed out. “Love the lace being longer than the hem. It was a nice touch to give the illusion of more length.”

 

“The sleeves saved you,” Naomi said, but she was smiling as she said it. “As Gabriel said, this could have turned out downright trashy given the materials, but this is a beautiful, well fitting, classy dress.”

 

Dean thanked them, his heart hammering against his ribcage as Jessica gave him a half hug in congratulations. He felt vindicated; he felt like he’d proven that he was here because of what he could do, not for the comic relief of pointing and laughing at the mechanic who wants to design high fashion.

 

“Benny, this is…it’s frankly a travesty,” Naomi said to Benny, and he looked down and nodded, not about to disagree with her.

“It’s definitely not representative of what I can do,” he said, and Crowley snorted.

 

“Well I would hope not. The bodice is terrible, makes her look even more flat chested than she already is, and the baby doll dress went out of style for a reason.”

 

“There are so many issues with this dress,” Michael said with a sigh, looking it over again. “It seems like you just started off on the wrong foot and never got your balance.”

 

“Sounds about right,” Benny said with a chuckle. “I can do better than this, I promise you that.”

 

It didn’t look like all the judges believed him, and Dean felt his fear for Benny get a little bit worse; surely they would send Jody home instead, right? She’d been in the bottom once and, to be honest, Dean didn’t see the same potential in her work that he did in Benny’s. But, opinions being subjective, that meant little to nothing in the judging. After all, they didn’t like a single thing about Benny’s dress. Dean suddenly wasn’t so sure it was a clear-cut answer, despite his own opinion.

 

“Jody, what were you going for with this look?” Gabriel asked Jody, squinting at the dress.

 

“I wanted to take inspiration from the wool coat, and kind of make it my own, into a dress,” Jody said, and Naomi chuckled.

 

“Well, it’s almost…costume. It’s reminiscent of those awful wool uniforms that some schools used to have. It’s…not really flattering,” she pointed out.

 

“It is well made, I’ll give you that. You tailored it well. But that doesn’t make up for the fact that this was a big miss for you,” Crowley said, and then he gestured at his own collar. “The lace on the collar just puts it over the top.”

 

“They’ve said it all. While I do see quality workmanship in this, it’s just not a good look. It’s too dowdy, too old fashioned,” Michael said, and Jody bit her lip and nodded as they moved their attention on to Meg.

 

“Meg, from the top right down to the bottom of the barrel,” Crowley said with a smirk, as if taking pleasure in her pain. And okay, yeah, Dean wasn’t drumming up any sympathy for her, either.

 

“It’s really pageant, you have to know that,” Gabriel said, and Meg rolled her eyes.

 

“Maybe if my competitor didn’t pick out five yards of crappy satin, I could have done more with it,” she muttered, and Michael frowned at her, the mock pleasant expression he’d been keeping in place slipping away.

 

“One of the things I don’t tolerate from the designers that work for me are excuses. Sometimes you have to create a garment that’s going to hit the sales floor at fifty dollars, and if you have to use four dollars a yard fabric, I damn well expect it to look expensive when you’re done,” he said, and Dean had to fight to keep from smiling, because _damn_. She just got owned.

 

“He’s right. Some of your competitors ended up with much more challenging fabrics to work with, things that were likely unfamiliar, and they managed to make it work,” Naomi pointed out, and Crowley laughed.

 

“If you honestly have a problem with working with cheap materials, then you would have had a lot more trouble working with the teabags you used in the convenience store challenge,” he said, and Meg lifted her chin.

 

“That’s entirely different,” she said, her voice still firm. “Okay, I screwed this up. But I am a damn good designer. Better than most of the people you dragged in here.”

 

“We’ll see if that confidence floats you or sinks you,” Gabriel said, organizing his cards back into a neat stack. “Alright, we have a lot of deliberating to do. We’ll call you back out when we’re ready.”

 

The designers filed off the runway and back toward the waiting room, and the PAs there greeted them with sympathetic smiles, veggie platters, and trays of sandwiches. Dean figured they all must look pretty beat to hell, if the crew was already feeling sorry for them. Didn’t mean he was going to skip the meal, though.

 

Half the designers, including Dean, Charlie, Castiel, and Benny, sat at the large table in the half-kitchen side of the room, while everyone else sprawled out on the chairs and couches. Meg was ignoring everyone else, preferring to lie across the back of the couch and stare at the ceiling tiles. Kevin and Jo were hanging out and talking, and Ruby and Balthazar were sitting around with Jody, for some odd reason. Then again, Jody had pretty much gotten along with everyone from the first day; he didn’t think even Meg had anything against Jody. Yet.

 

“Don’t worry, Benny,” Dean said with a hopeful smile. “I honestly don’t think it’ll be you going home. Really.”

 

Benny smiled, picking at his food, but not eating anything yet. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. And I think you’ve got this win in the bag. They really liked your dress,” he said, and Castiel nodded in agreement.

 

“Plus the most votes at the party. How did you manage that, anyway?” Castiel teased, and Dean laughed.

 

“It was all Jessica, let me tell you.”

 

It was the longest deliberation yet. Every time Dean looked at the clock it seemed like only a minute had passed, a minute that felt like hours. The less stressed designers- the safe ones- actually managed to catch a nap while they waited, though Castiel didn’t indulge. Dean asked him if he was going to take a nap, and Castiel looked horrified, like the thought of sleeping around the other designers out in the open was the most terrifying thing ever.

 

So someone had to shake Kevin and Charlie awake when word came that the judges were ready for them. Once everyone was at least somewhat awake and alert, they walked back to the runway, the safe designers dropping into their chairs and the top and bottom three back on the runway under the spotlights.

 

“We were generally impressed this week. Given the circumstances, most of you surprised us,” Gabriel said. “But there has to be a loser. And today, you came as ten and you’ll leave as nine.”

 

Dean wanted to tell him to get on with it, that they didn’t need the extra suspense, but he knew it was all for TV; these chats would be hacked up and re-edited together, put through a grinder, and taken out of context. Gabriel had to milk the suspense for all it was worth.

 

“Jo…you’re safe. Good job,” Gabriel said, and Jo smiled, not without a hint of disappointment that she didn’t win. Gabriel turned and looked at Dean with a smirk.

 

“Dean…you’re the winner of this challenge! This means you will have immunity for next week’s challenge,” he said, and Dean almost laughed with relief, his stomach still trying to tie itself up in knots.

 

“Thank you,” he said, and Michael smiled back at him.

 

“If you’re ever in need of design work after you leave here, feel free to give me a call,” he said, and fuck, did Dean just get a job offer from Michael fucking Astor? Really? Was this even real life?

 

“Balthazar, you are also safe. Very nice job this week, so keep that up, alright?” Gabriel said, and Balthazar just winked at him.

 

Great. Now they were going to have condom dress 2.0 or something.

 

“Meg…you should be glad you had immunity this week. But for now, you are safe.”

 

The tension seemed to drain from Meg’s shoulders as she nodded, though she still looked angry- or maybe that was her default expression. Dean had known she would be safe, though, and was already worrying about Benny as Gabriel turned his eyes on the bottom two.

 

“Benny…your dress this week was an all around failure. The fabric may have been an excuse for the questionable style to some degree, but there was no excuse for the mistakes made in your garment,” he said before moving on to Jody. “Jody, we have been unimpressed with your work. You have unmistakable skill in tailoring a garment, but we’re beginning to wonder if you’re a designer, or just a seamstress.”

 

Jody winced, and ouch, Dean couldn’t blame her- that one had to hurt. No designer wanted to be called a seamstress; nothing wrong with being a seamstress, of course, but it was a far cry from being a designer.

 

“Benny,” Gabriel said, and he let the name hang in the air for far too long, letting the cameras get the shots of the anxious designers before he spoke again. “I’m sorry, but you’re out.”

 

Dean blinked in surprise. Sure, it had been a fifty-fifty chance, but he’d really expected Benny to be the one going back to the apartments with them. To his credit, Benny handled it incredibly well, shaking hands with the judges and holding his head high as they all made their way back to the waiting room.

 

Tim immediately pulled Benny into a hug when he walked in the room. “Benny, I’m sorry. This just wasn’t your challenge,” he said, and Benny gave him a smile.

 

“Don’t you worry none. I’ve got a girl back home waitin’ on me,” he said, pulling Dean into a tight bear hug, and then Castiel too.

 

“You two gotta kick ass in this, okay? I wanna see both of you in the finale, and Charlie, too,” he said softly before saying his goodbyes to everyone else. Once all the goodbyes had been said, Tim sent Benny upstairs to start cleaning his space, and Tim gave Dean a bright smile.

 

“I knew you would do well in this challenge,” he said. “You keep that drive from here on out, understand?”

 

Dean nodded and managed a smile, though it felt disingenuous after watching Benny leave. Up until now, he’d been kind of neutral as to the eliminations, but with every person that left, it meant a person with more talent would be going home the next week. Dean didn’t want to see any of his friends walk out that door to gather their things. At the same time, if he managed to actually do what Benny told him to do, he’d have to watch most of them leave.

 

Confessionals took even longer today, though Dean had the feeling they’d get even longer as the competition went on. He was right in the middle, so he had to wait on ice while Meg, Castiel, Kevin, and Jody all cycled through before the producer called him back. It started out as normal, them having him do a present tense recollection of moments in the challenge, from Castiel helping him, to Chiffon the dog rat thing, to the party.

 

“So, do you think the right choice was made tonight?” the producer asked, and Dean hesitated and sighed.

 

“We’re all great designers here, there’s no question. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here. But…I can’t help but think that the wrong person went home tonight. Benny had so much talent and he didn’t get much of a chance to show it. But who knows, maybe Jody will get back on track and kick all our asses.”

 

“I’ll bet it felt good to win, though.”

 

Dean laughed. “Yeah, it…it felt good. Especially after hearing about the doubts people had about me, I feel like I’ve proven that I belong here.”

 

“In your opinion, who are the top competitors here?”

 

“Well, there’s no question that Castiel and Meg are both amazing designers. Charlie and Jo have great points of view in their work, and I always look forward to seeing what they make. And Kevin is some kind of prodigy, I don’t even know,” Dean said, biting his lip and thinking. “But yeah, I feel like it’s still anyone’s ball game. Ask me again after a few more challenges.”

 

“You’ve still been awfully close with Castiel,” the producer pointed out with a grin, and Dean shook his head.

 

“You’re gonna throw that at me every time I’m in here, aren’t you?” he asked, but the producer just waited, obviously trying to get something juicy out of him; gossip to spread among the other contestants, drama to stir up. “He’s one of my best friends here, and we’ve both helped each other out in tight spots. Of course I hang out with him.”

 

It wasn’t the answer the producer wanted, but it was all he was going to get. Sure, Dean was beginning to wonder if he didn’t have a bit of a crush on Castiel, but he wasn’t about to gush to a camera about it; the producers would tell Castiel about it to try and force things along, then things would be awkward, and...ugh. He was relieved when the producer finally sent him back to the waiting room and called in the next person.

 

It was dark outside by the time they headed back to the apartments. They were all a little too hyped up from the elimination to sleep just yet, so Dean made everyone hot chocolate (turns out his mother’s recipe was incredibly popular with his roommates), and they started to just relax and chat- until there was a knock on the door.

 

Kevin set his drink down and went to open the door, and outside stood…Balthazar. With two suitcases.

 

“Lost both my roommates. They’re insisting I move in with you three so they don’t have to keep paying on the other apartment,” he said, rolling his eyes as he pulled his luggage inside. “What say we knock a few of the girls out of the competition so they have to suffer the close quarters too?”

 

“I’ll drink to that,” Kevin said, grabbing his hot chocolate again. Castiel was sipping at his, oddly quiet- but then again, Dean wouldn’t be too happy either, if he found out he’d be rooming with Balthazar.

 

Maybe Dean should have roomed with Castiel from the start after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pictures for this week's garments (as per usual, makeup/model not applicable, garments may not be completely exact, and opinions of fictional judges are, as always, subjective):
> 
> [Dean](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Dean_zps682d1a0d.jpg)
> 
> [Balthazar](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Balthazar_zps7c5937d1.jpg)
> 
> [Jo](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Jo_zps9d6bb6d0.jpg)
> 
> [Castiel](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Castiel_zps195eab3f.jpg)
> 
> [Kevin](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Kevin_zps754a0370.jpg)
> 
> [Charlie](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Charlie_zps02780742.jpg)
> 
> [Ruby](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Ruby_zpsd291b7de.jpg)
> 
> [Meg](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Meg_zps4c454d2c.jpg)
> 
> [Jody](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Jody_zps569452dc.jpg)
> 
> [Benny](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Party%20Dresses/Benny_zps70181f67.jpeg)


	5. Here Comes the Tulle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Dean wanted to see was Gabriel in a dress. On top of that, the challenge they're presented with is enough to make any designer want to crawl back into bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in business. This will be updating regularly again, and my sincere apologies for the long break. Hope a long chapter makes up for it. <3
> 
> Also, the next chapter is going to have some excitement and action, so stay tuned for it- hopefully I will have the next chapter up early next week!

It was downright weird the next morning to be guzzling down some coffee and see Balthazar stumbling out of the other bedroom, looking rumpled and tired for once. Then again, everyone seemed to be getting stretched to their limits- even the career designers probably didn’t spend 16 hours a day sewing, every day, for weeks on end. Dean was beginning to dream in stitch settings and fabrics.

“Please tell me you people have better coffee over here,” Balthazar muttered, and Dean moved aside so Balthazar could grab at the coffee pot and pour himself a cup. From the look on his face when he took a drink, it wasn’t the ‘better coffee’ he was hoping for.

“Bloody yanks don’t even know how to make a proper cup of coffee,” he complained, and Kevin laughed.

“I’d like to see a Brit get decent coffee out of a ten dollar coffee machine.”

Despite his complaints, it wasn’t long before Balthazar’s cup was empty. They all were running on caffeine and strung-out adrenaline right now, and even bad coffee was better than no coffee. They headed downstairs to meet the other designers and were the last group to show, so in moments Dean was walking into the cool morning air.

And the smell. God, Dean never thought he’d miss the _smell_ of Kansas, but being in New York City and smelling the exhaust of so many vehicles packed in-between the buildings gave him a new appreciation for ‘fresh air’.

“He talks in his sleep,” Castiel muttered, falling into step beside Dean. Dean laughed.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s hard to sleep when he’s mumbling about a ménage à twelve.”

“I want whatever he’s dreaming,” Dean said with a snort, and Castiel gave him a curious look as they passed through the doors into Brighton’s. He happened to catch Meg’s eye, but only for a moment- and that moment was enough to make him shudder. Obviously a night of sleep hadn’t dimmed her fury.

Dean had the feeling he had a target on his back now. Maybe winning that particular challenge hadn’t been such a good thing.

Luckily, he didn’t have to sit next to her at the runway. He took his usual spot, though the fact that there were fewer chairs every day was beginning to become more apparent. Benny’s presence was noticeably absent, the kind, gentle aura he seemed to exude missing from the room.

It shouldn’t have been him to go.

“Good morning designers!” Gabriel said, stepping out from behind the partition- and Dean nearly choked on air.

Gabriel was wearing a giant, floofy wedding dress.

He flaunted it all the way down the runway to the halfway point where they sat, and then he did a spin before smiling at them. “Guess what you’re making this week?”

Oh Jesus Christ on a pogo stick.

They were making wedding dresses.

A collective groan went up from the designers, because wedding dresses weren’t meant to even be made in a month, let alone one or two days. That, and Dean had never designed and made a wedding dress from start to finish. He’d done alterations to store bought wedding dresses, and he’d done some prom dresses that had a shape that could have passed for bridal, but he’d never done a full on ‘here comes the bride’ wedding dress.

“Don’t look so worried, Dean! After all, you’re the one with immunity this week,” Gabriel pointed out cheerfully. “Of course, that also means you could take a risk, if you dare.”

Dean relaxed a little. Despite Gabriel’s teasing tone, he was right- Dean did have immunity this week, and it just might save his ass. Target or no target, winning last week was no longer a mixed blessing. It was just a straight up blessing. Dean spared a glance at Castiel, but the other designer didn’t look worried; he looked confident, determined, like he was already ready to start sewing.

“You’ll be making wedding gowns, as you may have guessed. And we’re giving you freedom of design for this one. Any kind of wedding dress. Anything goes. As long as you can proudly stand by your work and defend it,” Gabriel explained, tugging the top of the strapless gown in a futile effort to keep it up; but the dress was made for someone with boobs, which thankfully Gabriel did not have.

And oh God, that was a mental image he’d never get out of his skull.

“And this week’s prize doesn’t end with immunity. In fact, this week’s prize is a first for All Star Designer,” Gabriel continued, and everyone perked up- even Meg appeared to have lost some of her fury when she heard that. Gabriel smirked at seeing that he had their full attention.

“The winner of this challenge will have their dress displayed on a billboard…in Times Square,” he said, and Dean’s breath caught. A billboard in fucking Times Square? Fuck, designers went their whole careers without pulling that off, and here they would have a shot at it, a bunch of amateur designers. The business that could drum up could be staggering.

This was one that everyone would be playing to win.

“Tim has more information for you upstairs. I expect a fabulous show; don’t disappoint me,” Gabriel said, and with a swish of his giant skirt, he left the runway and went back behind the partition.

“Have you ever made a wedding dress?” Jo asked Dean softly, the anxiety clear in her voice, and he shook his head.

“Nope. Altered them, done giant prom dresses, but never…you know. Full on wedding gown,” he said, and she groaned. Obviously she was in the same boat. Dean was already wracking his mind for possibilities as they headed up the stairs to the workroom; maybe Gabriel was right. Maybe he should take a risk while he had the chance. A wedding dress with a new twist?

Tim was waiting in the workroom, hands clasped together and a small smile on his face as the designers filed into the room and lined up. He waited until they were settled, but didn’t wait for the cameras to get ready before he spoke.

“A little official business before we get started,” he said, his voice taking on that serious tone. “There are nine of you left. And as you know, more than the top three actually create collections to show at fashion week, because we don’t want people discovering the final three before the show airs.”

Dean had heard as much. He didn’t know how many designers actually showed at fashion week, but he knew while the top three were the headliners, more of the designers actually showed their collections at the show, acting as a sort of decoy.

“The final eight with be creating collections for fashion week this year. So that means if you make it through this week, even if you do not headline on the show or win, you will still get the exposure of showing a collection at fashion week,” Tim explained, and Dean’s stomach twisted again. He had immunity.

That meant that no matter what, he would be making a collection for fashion week. Even if he lost the next challenge, he would still get a chance to walk a line down that world famous runway.

It was enough to make him start sweating just thinking about it.

The cameras now ready to go, Tim moved on to the challenge at hand. “You will have 30 minutes to sketch, and a $300 budget for this challenge,” he said. “And you can relax a little, because you will have two days to finish your garment. Are you all ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Jo muttered, and Charlie and Dean both laughed nervously. Tim called for time to start, and Dean went to his table and immediately started sketching, working on the silhouette first.

He couldn’t skimp on the sketching this time. He needed to know exactly how much fabric he was going to need, because cheap fabric wasn’t an option; he would have to budget carefully. He looked at his silhouette, a traditional strapless sweetheart neck gown, and for a few moments, he just eyed the lines and the length.

Then, with a decisive swipe of his pencil, he cut the dress off just below the knee.

He could not only take on the challenge of doing a tea length wedding dress instead of full length, but with the shorter length needing less fabric, he could go for a really high quality fabric this way. And after Castiel showed him the trick with the lace, he felt more confident about deciding to use a scalloped lace around the bottom hem of the skirt. Maybe some embellishments here and there. He would have to find something graceful to do with the bodice, because more attention would be put onto the top of the dress by hacking the skirt off like that; it would have to be perfect in order to justify his decision.

“And time! Let’s go to Swatches, everyone!” Tim said, and Dean took a deep breath and tore out his sketch, folding it to take along with him. He was already trying to remember if he’d seen the section of silks the last time he was at Swatches; he’d been so distracted looking for satin and avoiding dog rat thing that he wasn’t sure he remembered where anything else was.

He totally blamed it on dog rat thing.

“What did you come up with?” Charlie asked, jogging to catch up to him as they made their way downstairs. Some people he would have brushed off and not given anything away, but this was Charlie; she was like the sister he never knew he had.

“Gonna do something shorter. Tea length,” he said, and she grinned.

“Me too! Except it’ll probably be totally different because I’m totally doing a sort of retro look, you know? It’ll be awesome.”

“Better hope they like retro,” Dean teased, and she pushed him, darting out the door in front of him to get into one of the vans. He followed and Kevin, Castiel, and Jo got in the front van with them, avoiding being stuck awkwardly in a van with Meg.

“My last wedding dress was a disaster,” Kevin said with a sigh. “My teacher said she wouldn’t even wear the thing to a funeral.”

“At least you know what to avoid, then,” Jo pointed out before giving Castiel a nudge. “You know what you’re doing?”

Castiel nodded, still seeming to be lost in thought. “Yes. I don’t know whether I’ll need 20 or 25 yards of tulle, though,” he said, and Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“25 yards of tulle? What the hell, Cas?”

“…You’re right. Maybe 30 would be a safer choice,” Castiel said, and before they could question him more, the vans were pulling to a stop outside of Swatches.

Dean spotted Benny getting out of the third van with Zachariah and Sarah, but as soon as he took one step in that direction, a PA was grabbing him and directing him back toward the store. “They’re not here. Stay on ice,” she snapped, and Dean groaned. He just wanted to talk to Benny, but it looked like they weren’t allowed to have any contact with the eliminated designers at all.

They were herded quickly into Swatches, where Chiffon the dog rat thing waited by the door. It had evidently decided that Dean was its new best friend, because it followed him as he lined up with the others and Tim handed out the envelopes containing their money.

“You’ll have thirty minutes to shop. Make use of your helpers here; they are here to help you, after all,” Tim said, taking a look at his watch. “Your time starts…now!”

Dean immediately turned to an employee, who happened to be the same girl who’d helped him at the last challenge. “Silk taffeta?” he asked, and she pointed to the stairs.

“2nd floor, on your left and down four rows,” she said, and Dean thanked her even as he was turning and heading for the stairs. He took the steps two at a time, following her directions and finding the shelves containing bolts of silk taffeta, every color he could imagine.

He didn’t need to worry about color, though; he wasn’t going to take the risk of going short _and_ not white. He went to the few bolts of white, checking each one and wincing at the price before deciding on one that was a straight white and not too shiny. It was 25 dollars a yard, so he would need to be careful to not get too much; the lace would probably be just as expensive.

By the time he pulled the bolt free and turned around, the girl was already waiting with her arms held out. “How many yards?” she asked, and he smiled at her with relief.

“Six yards. Thank you so much,” he said, setting the bolt of fabric in her arms before heading back to the middle aisle. He nearly ran into Charlie, which was actually a good thing for him.

“Charlie, where’s the lace in this maze?”

“All the way down at the end,” Charlie said, pointing back the way she’d come from, and Dean ruffled her hair fondly before making his way down there. He’d been almost right about the price; when he found the scalloped edge lace he needed, it was 18 dollars a yard. He did some mental calculations and glanced at his sketch again; four yards should be enough for what he had planned. He tucked the bolt of lace under his arm and headed back down the stairs to the cutting tables, waiting for Jo to get done before he slid the lace across the table.

“Four yards,” he said, and the girl unfolded the bolt and slid the scissors through the fabric like a knife through butter. As she folded both his fabrics and handed them back to him, Tim called out the ten minute mark.

Dean made full use of the next ten minutes, maxing out his budget with tulle, embellishments, hem tape for the neckline, and a zipper. He stepped into the line at the register just as Tim called time, and he breathed a sigh of relief, his heart rate finally dropping down below imminent-heart-attack levels. Kevin was the last one to get in line, nearly falling down the stairs as he made his way to the register.

Everyone was close or over budget this time; Dean had cut it close, with just over a dollar to spare, but hey, he was pretty proud that he’d done that well shopping when he had so much to get in only 30 minutes.

Of course, everyone was impressed with Cas. By the time he finished checking out he had four bags of fabric and eight cents to spare on his budget; whatever he had planned, it wouldn’t be subtle, that was for sure. Not with four bags of fabric, and a ton of it being tulle, from what Dean could see.

Chiffon sniffed at Dean’s bag and Dean gave the dog rat thing a look and tried to shoo it away; it stood firm, though, ignoring his admonitions and staring at him like he hung the moon. He was relieved when Kevin finally finished checking out and they said their goodbyes to the employees; he was ready to get back and get to work. He turned and headed out to the van, climbing in and then helping Castiel get all his bags in and arranged so there was still room for people and not just fabric.

“You know, we only have to make one wedding dress, not ten,” Charlie pointed out, staring at Castiel’s bags of fabric. He just tilted his head, giving her a confused look.

“I’m aware. I’m only making one dress,” he said, and Dean practically heard the ‘whoosh’ at the joke going right over his head. He chuckled and grinned at Castiel fondly.

“Cas…never change,” he said, shaking his head as Castiel just raised an eyebrow at both of them.

In the workroom, though, the mood quickly turned serious, at least for a while. Dean set out his fabrics, relieved beyond belief that he would actually get to use fabric he picked this time and not someone else’s, and he took a minute to decide on a plan of attack.

There was really no ‘easy’ part to get done first this time. Not when he wanted to try draping the bodice before he even thought about embellishments. He took the silk taffeta off the table and began the slow work of pinning it to the dress form, trying to let the fabric lie naturally but at the same time trying to coax it into a workable shape.

Castiel’s table was covered in fabric. The dark tabletop was completely hidden beneath piles of tulle, enough that Dean had no idea what Castiel was planning to do with it; surely he didn’t intend to make a skirt that big. It would look ridiculous. He started to make a teasing comment about it to Benny, but when he turned his head, Benny’s table was empty.

Oh. Yeah.

Well, if anything was a sobering reminder of how serious this was becoming, it was seeing Benny’s table empty. Dean threw himself into his work, draping and folding until he was finally satisfied with the look of the bodice and began to pin it in place for sewing. He could see Charlie out of the corner of his eye, going back and forth between her sketch and her pattern paper, some pieces in muslin already cut and waiting.

He was kind of jealous that she had a simple enough design to have the time to do a muslin mock-up.

It didn’t seem like the three hours it had been before Charlie was grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the break room. It seemed that their little group had fallen into a routine of having lunch together on the days that weren’t a frantic mess; Castiel, Kevin, and Jo were waiting on them there, already filling their plates.

Today it was tacos, with all the fixings. Probably a step above the Taco Bell Dean was used to, but he wasn’t complaining; he wasn’t shy about filling his plate before he sat down between Jo and Kevin on one of the long couches. The camera, as always, wasn’t far behind.

“I keep trying to talk to Benny,” Dean said with a sad smile. “Wonder how long it’ll take me to remember he’s not there.”

“He _should_ be there. He’s a good designer,” Kevin protested, and Jo nodded.

“Better than Jody.”

“No need for trash talk,” Castiel said, but Jo just rolled her eyes and flicked a piece of cheese at him.

“You guys need to stop being so nice. This is a competition, not summer camp. And you all know Benny is a better designer than Jody, don’t even deny it.”

Dean shrugged, managing to remember his manners enough to swallow before he tried to speak. “Nothing we can do about it except try to stay in for him, like he said.”

“If anything will knock me out of the running, it’ll be a damn wedding dress,” Jo said, ignoring the looks of disgust she was getting as she mixed all the taco ingredients with two of the taco sauces to create a brown goopy looking mixture to put in her tacos. Anything that went inside a taco should not end up looking like chunky sausage gravy.

“But you guys have made wedding dresses before, right? I mean, aside from me and Jo. We’re the novices here in this challenge,” Dean said, and Castiel shrugged.

“I’ve made a couple. Nothing incredibly complicated, though.”

“Same,” Charlie said around a mouthful of food. “They were cheap, though. Budget brides.”

Kevin groaned and rolled his eyes. “Hated the budget projects in class. We once had to make a women’s business suit with thirty dollars of material. It sucked.”

“At least it wasn’t a thirty dollar budget for this,” Dean pointed out, meeting Castiel’s eyes over the coffee table. Castiel smiled, just a little, before diverting his gaze back down to his food. Dean couldn’t miss Charlie’s exaggerated eye-roll out of the corner of his eye, but he chose to ignore it. The conversation moved on, from what fashion school was like for Kevin to the horrors Charlie went through for one of the brides she worked with. Dean didn’t stick around once he’d finished his food; he headed back into the workroom and got to work again.

Everyone was back in the workroom and Dean was nearly finished pinning the draped bodice in place for sewing when Tim walked through the door. “Good afternoon, designers,” he said, looking around the room. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just be checking in with each of you. Carry on.”

With Benny’s table empty, Dean’s was the first one that Tim came to. Dean stepped aside so Tim could have a look at the bodice pinned to the dress form, waiting nervously for the verdict.

“Well, I love the crisscross draping you’ve done here,” he finally said, pointing to where the fabric crossed in the middle of the bust. “What are you planning for the skirt?”

“The same silk taffeta, just with a layer of lace over it,” Dean explained, patting the lace that was still neatly folded on the table. “Going for tea length instead of full length.”

Tim nodded. “Good choice. A skirt that’s too full would take away from the detailing in this bodice. But I do worry about those,” he said, nodding toward the small bag of crystals that Dean had picked up for embellishment. “You don’t want to overwhelm this look with unnecessary flotsam and jetsam.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to make a decision on that when I get farther along with the dress,” Dean said, glancing back down at his sketch. He thought he could add some of the crystals without crossing the line from elegant to gaudy, but Tim was right- he would have to be careful with it.

“Good. Well, I have trust in you. Keep working on it,” Tim said, stepping around the dress form to walk to Castiel’s workstation. Castiel was bent over the table working on something, but Dean couldn’t see what it was past all the piles of tulle. Tim looked both worried and amused as Castiel straightened up.

“Castiel…dare I ask what all this fabric is going to?” he asked with a laugh, and Castiel searched the table for his sketchpad, holding it out to Tim.

“Don’t worry. Not all the fabric is going in the same skirt,” he said, and Dean frowned, almost tempted to walk over there and look over Tim’s shoulder; what the hell did he mean by ‘not in the same skirt’?

“This is…ambitious,” Tim said, studying the sketch closely. “But I don’t see how you can pull this together in two days. Have you thought about time?”

“I can do it,” Castiel said without a hint of hesitation, and Tim looked at the work on the table and the piles of fabric before looking back at Castiel.

“You keep one eye on the clock. When I come back tomorrow, I hope you’ve proven me wrong,” he finally said, handing the sketchbook back to Castiel. “I won’t waste any more of your time. You have a lot to do.”

Dean once again resisted the urge to go over and see what Castiel was working on- evidently he couldn’t afford distractions, if even Tim thought he’d taken too much on his plate, even for a two day challenge. Besides, Dean had been distracted long enough; he needed to get back to work, though he did pay attention to the other critiques as he started placing the final pins.

When he broke out of his train of thought, Charlie was excitedly telling Tim about her idea for a retro look, holding out her sketch with pride. Tim was already smiling; her enthusiasm was infectious. Dean had already experienced that, more than once.

“One thing you need to watch is that you don’t lean too much on the retro aspect of this to carry you. It’s a good design, but I feel like it’s just not…enough, yet,” Tim said, and Charlie bit her lip, looking at the materials on her table for a moment before she snapped her fingers.

“I could make a headpiece!” she said with a grin. “One of those old fashioned ones, you know? With the half veil.”

“Just don’t go overboard with it. You still want the dress to be the focus, and not look like it came right out of a costume party,” Tim said, and Charlie thanked him and was back to her work like a whirlwind. Tim stepped out of the way just in time to avoid an imminent redhead collision, making his way to Kevin’s table.

“That’s…a lot of lace,” he said with a laugh, and Kevin smiled sheepishly.

“Yeah, it…I mean, the last time I made a wedding dress they said it looked like a really bad prom dress. I wanted to, you know…”

“Go to the opposite extreme?” Tim finished for him, looking at the sketch on the table. He was silent for a few long moments, leaving Kevin to shift his weight nervously and wait for the verdict. “I do like the silhouette. The high collar could save it from being too old fashioned, but with this much lace you’re fighting an uphill battle. If you stick to your sketch, though, this could be a show stopper.”

Kevin breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll stick to it, don’t worry. Thanks, Tim,” he said, and Tim patted him on the shoulder before moving across the center aisle to Meg’s table. Meg already had a good amount draped on her dress form, though nothing in the back was finished in any way, and that was the only part Dean could see.

“It’s very Grecian,” Tim said as he circled around the dress form, and Meg nodded.

“Good. That’s what I was going for,” she said, and Tim fell silent for a few more long moments before speaking again.

“My concern is that it’s too simple. It’s a beautiful dress, but there’s nothing that stands out as being a…’Meg’ design. You’re not in this piece yet.”

“Well, I didn’t want to do some floofy design encrusted with disco ball crystals,” Meg shot back, and Dean almost laughed at the blatant dig on his design. If she thought she was going to get to him with passive aggressive remarks, she had another thing coming.

“I would seriously consider stepping back to edit this. Take it to the next level. Simplicity can be beautiful, but with this being a two day challenge, the judges will expect perfection in every stitch or they’ll wonder what you were doing with your time,” Tim advised, but Meg obviously wasn’t very interested in his feedback. She just started working again, not bothering to thank him for the advice, and he moved on to Ruby’s table instead.

Ruby was ready for him, handing over her sketchbook with a hopeful look. “This is what I have planned,” she said, waiting for Tim to look over the sketch. He was already nodding, though.

“I love it. The silhouette is great,” he said, but then he gave her a look of concern. “You think you can pull this off in two days?”

“Um…I think so.”

Tim chuckled. “That didn’t sound very confident. I would sit down and try to budget out your time, make sure you don’t try to do too much. I have faith in you,” he said, stepping around her table to Jody’s. His first reaction was to wince at the sight of the fabric on her table- a shiny, stark white satin.

“A three hundred dollar budget and you picked satin?” he asked, and Jody nodded.

“I can make it look good. I’ve used it before,” she said, but Tim didn’t look like he shared any of her confidence.

“Jody…you’re a good designer, there’s no question about that. But you’ve been on the cusp of being sent home multiple times, and I don’t want something like a fabric choice to be the breaking point,” he said, having a quick look at her sketch.

“It’ll work well with the structure I’m looking for. Don’t worry about me,” Jody said, but her confidence was obviously a little shaken as she looked over her materials. Tim wished her luck and moved on to Jo’s table, finding another table full of satin, albeit a less shiny, more off white satin. There was fabric wrapped around her dress form, but it didn’t seem to have any solid shape to it yet.

“Tell me where you’re going with this,” Tim said, and Jo hesitated before reaching for her sketchbook.

“I…don’t really have anything decided for sure yet. But this is the general idea,” she said, and his frown deepened as he looked at the sketch.

“There’s nothing unique about this. This is the kind of dress you can find in a bridal store,” he said, and Jo winced, with good reason- the last thing a designer wanted to hear was that their work looked like something off the rack at a David’s Bridal.

“Well, nothing’s for sure yet. I can still make changes.”

Tim set the sketch down and looked at the dress form again for a few long moments. “Have you ever made a wedding dress before?”

Jo sighed. “No.”

“I think your insecurities are getting the better of you. You’re thinking about this too much,” Tim explained. “I don’t want to see you in the bottom because you lost your nerve. I would rethink this whole thing, and stop worrying so much about it being something new. Just use the techniques you know you’re good at to make it _yours_.”

Jo nodded, but her shoulders were slumped and worry clear in her eyes as Tim gave her a supportive smile and moved on to the last table, Balthazar’s. He immediately chuckled at seeing a shiny gold stain spread across the table.

“All three of you did your shopping in the same section,” he joked, and Balthazar handed over his sketchpad with his chin held high. Tim studied it for a few moments before looking back at the fabric. “I’m worried, Balthazar, to be frank. Between the silhouette and the fabric, I don’t want this to end up looking like a negligee on the rack at JCPenney.”

Balthazar didn’t seem worried, even though the critique was hardly a good one. “Please, I have better taste than that,” he said, and Tim raised an eyebrow.

“You’re fighting an uphill battle, starting with this fabric choice. I would really encourage you to rethink this design entirely.”

Balthazar snorted. “Advice noted. I’ll take it into consideration,” he said with a snarky smile, and Tim sighed before going back to the front of the room; he knew that he would get nowhere trying to change Balthazar’s mind.

“Most of you are on the right path,” Tim said, looking over the room one last time. “And some of you have a lot of work to get done. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to have another look and give you some last minute advice, and your models should be in for a fitting in the morning.”

Before Tim was even out the door Dean was throwing himself back into his work, putting in the last few pins and easing the dress off the dress form. He took it into the sewing room and did some initial seaming, half of the seams done with a basting stitch to be either removed or reinforced later, depending on how the skirt ended up.

By the time he walked back into the workroom, he could hear Charlie laughing- but she wasn’t at her station. Dean raised an eyebrow at Jo, who was back to sketching with a stressed look on her face, and Jo pointed her pencil toward Castiel’s station, where Castiel also seemed to be missing. That is, until Dean rounded the table and saw the mass of tulle on the floor.

He made his way to the edge of it and lifted up the edge of the tulle, looking under it to find Charlie and Castiel in what amounted to a tent made of tulle. Charlie was working on what looked like the headpiece for her dress, and Castiel was working on the tulle, looping it and putting hand stitches every few inches to keep the ends together. He was smiling- actually smiling- and it made Dean’s stomach do a slow roll to see a genuine smile out of him.

“Come on in, Dean! It’s like designer camping!” Charlie said, tugging at his sleeve with a bright smile, and Dean laughed and shook his head.

“You know, I think I’ll leave you guys to enjoy the tulle tent.”

“Suit yourself. We’ll have all the fun without you, then,” Charlie shot back, sticking her tongue out at him before going back to her work. Dean dropped the edge and backed away, but Kevin was quick to dart around him and duck under the edge of the tulle tent. The poor cameraman was left on the outside, trying to figure out exactly how to film them like this- he couldn’t hold up the tulle without his hand getting in the shot.

And he didn’t look too happy when Dean laughed at his predicament.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t stay in the tulle tent very long, because Castiel eventually needed to flip it over and start working on the other side. Charlie went back to her table and sat on the edge of it to continue working, swinging her feet like a kid in a swing.

“Wish my mom was here. She would’ve loved that,” she said, and Dean felt that homesickness hit him again. How long had it been since he’d talked to Sam or Mom, or even Bobby? It felt like it had been forever.

“I’m glad my brother isn’t here. He would tease me about everything,” he said with a chuckle.

“He will anyway, when the show airs.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Dean said, and then he opened his mouth to ask what Castiel’s siblings would think of the show- but then he remembered Castiel’s reaction the last time his siblings were mentioned. It seemed like a bad idea to bring up the subject again, especially in a room full of people and cameras. He bit his lip and went back to working on the skirt, all of them once again lapsing into silence as they got back to seriously working.

As it usually went, none of them ended up eating dinner at the same time; Dean passed Charlie on his way into the break room, and passed Castiel on his way out, none of them taking more than fifteen minutes to eat; technically they were supposed to take a full half hour for every meal, but it seemed like the PAs would let it slide as long as they got some food down.

The hours seemed to fly by, and Dean felt like he’d gotten little done by the time their ten o’clock deadline for the day rolled around; he had a half done bodice, a half done skirt, and hadn’t even started with the lace or embellishments yet. He still couldn’t tell what was going on with Castiel’s piles of fabric, though he did figure out that it wasn’t all tulle; he also had a soft looking matte silk in a very light blush pink and another remnant of it in white.

Nonetheless, he was too tired to ask Castiel what he was planning. He was too tired to _think_. And he felt like his eyesight was fucked up from staring at white fabric all day, like he had snow-blindness; except it was silk-blindness. Nobody was in a talkative mood as they made their way back to the Saturn apartments, and nobody bothered with evening pleasantries before collapsing into bed.

The next morning was even more intense- with the deadline in sight at the end of the night, and the models coming in for a fitting before lunch even rolled around, everyone needed to get as much done as possible on their garments in order to get the most out of their fitting. Even working nonstop and almost running his finger under the needle of the sewing machine, Dean was still attaching the skirt to the bodice when Jessica came into the sewing room to find him.

“Hey! Working hard, I see,” she said, sitting down on the table beside the machine as Dean slid the fabric through and pressed the button to cut the thread.

“Working into an early grave, I think,” he said, taking the dress out of the machine and having a look. “Well, let’s try this. Don’t move around too much, some of these seams are just basted in for now.”

“Congrats on the win, by the way,” Jessica said as she led the way back into the workroom, already starting to strip out of her shirt. It was a testament to Balthazar that he didn’t even bat an eyelash when a model walked by him, stripping as she went.

“It was all you, Jess. I would’ve been a lost cause at that party,” Dean pointed out, and she laughed, tossing her shirt on his work table and stripping out of her pants.

“I don’t know, I think every model we talked to wanted in your pants, Dean,” she pointed out, and Dean saw Castiel glance over with a frown, but only for a moment; he was quickly back to making adjustments to the gown on his model. It had a textured, form fitting strapless top and a thin tulle skirt so far, but the majority of the fabric still lay on his table, and Dean had the feeling Castiel was the only person who could make sense of what was going on in that mess.

Dean bent down and carefully helped Jessica into the dress, tugging it up and in place and having her hold it there while he began to pin the adjustments in place. “Yeah, well, I don’t think me and those models would have much in common.”

Luckily for Dean, he’d gotten rather accustomed to her measurements; there were only minor adjustments needed to the dress, which he pinned in place before helping her get out of the garment without any of the pins moving. As usual for the fittings, it was right down to the wire- most of the models were still in the dresses when a PA said their fitting time was up. Jessica wished him luck and gave him a hug before she left, and before he could get back into his work, Charlie was dragging him toward the break room.

“We’re all eating lunch before we get wrapped up again,” she demanded, getting the usual group together for the lunch break. It was pasta today, three heated trays on the table, each with a different kind of pasta in it; Dean got equal helpings of the fettuccini and the marinara before collapsing onto the couch next to Castiel.

“Your model’s really quiet. For a model, I mean,” he said, and Castiel shrugged halfheartedly.

“She’s just a bit shy. She’s better on the runway instead of face to face,” he said, poking at his own fettuccini, but it didn’t seem like he was eating much. He was probably one of those people who just didn’t have much of an appetite when they got really into a project; Bobby was like that. If Bobby was really working on a car, he could live on whiskey all day if Garth and Dean didn’t make him stop and eat.

Charlie sat down on the other side of Castiel, a bite of pasta already in her mouth, which she barely managed to swallow before speaking. “So, Cas,” she started, getting a mischievous look on her face. “We all know that Dean plays with cars for a living. Do you just design?”

“I wish,” Castiel said with a sad smile. “No, I…I worked full time at a bookstore. I just design on the side.”

“Worked? As in past tense?” Dean asked, and Castiel shrugged.

“They weren’t exactly keen on the idea of giving me time off work for the show. They kind of fired me,” he said softly, and Dean frowned. He hadn’t thought about how lucky he was that Bobby didn’t hesitate to tell him to get on that plane and go to New York.

“We’re all side-designers, then. I do computer repair, mostly,” Charlie said, and Dean raised an eyebrow at her.

“I was about to say strange mix, but…I’m sort of a mechanic,” he admitted with a laugh.

Kevin sat down with them and immediately began complaining about his model, who was being a complete diva as usual. Dean only half listened, beginning to worry about Castiel now- he’d lost his job for this, and he was living in New York City, where the cost of living in one month was probably equal to the cost of living one entire year in Kansas. What was he going to do after the competition if he didn’t win? No job and months away from normal life, he couldn’t imagine that would go well.

He didn’t have that much time to think on it before they had to get back to work. Dean reinforced and adjusted the seams from the fitting before he got to work making the lace that would overlay the skirt- luckily, this time the lace work was much simpler than last week.

He was still working on the lace when Tim returned for their second critiques, and his stomach twisted into even tighter knots; he was running out of time. He still had to put in the zipper, finish all the hems, finish attaching the lace, and do all the embellishments- there was no way. He tried to shove down the panic, instead continuing his work as Tim started on the other side of the room.

“Balthazar, I can see you stayed with your first design,” Tim said, looking at the slinky gold dress on the dress form. To Dean, it looked nothing like a wedding dress so far; he had to agree with Tim there.

“I think it’s elegant,” Balthazar said with pride, crossing his arms and looking at the dress. Tim looked like he was desperately holding back a very snarky response.

“It still concerns me greatly. It feels like a negligee,” he pointed out, but Balthazar just shook his head.

“None of the detailing is there yet. You’ll agree with me when it’s finished.”

“Well, I hope so,” Tim said, moving toward Jo’s table. “Carry on, Balthazar.”

Jo didn’t look ready for Tim at all. She was fuzzing with the dress on her dress form, and while Dean couldn’t see it well from where he was, it looked…messy, for lack of a better word. Not ‘in progress’ messy, but just a design that wasn’t all there yet.

“I know, there’s…it’s not that great,” Jo said even before Tim said anything, and he studied the dress for a few long moments.

“Well, I’m not going to argue. This certainly isn’t your best work, Jo,” he said, tapping his chin as he looked the dress over. “It’s very…ordinary. And a bit messy. Your priority should be to clean up these details and find a way to boost this to the next level.”

“I’d be happy with just making it look acceptable, at this point,” Jo muttered, and Tim gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t let it get the better of you. Think it over,” he said, and she thanked him softly, turning to stare at her dress form as she twisted her hair nervously around her finger. Tim moved on to Jody’s table, and she straightened up and stepped away from the dress form for him to see.

“I’m still concerned,” he said, and she huffed in frustration, giving him a confused look.

“Why?”

“The seam on the front of the bodice is just…strange,” Tim said, turning the dress form a little. “And you have some major problems to work out with the hem. I’m not sure this is something that will keep you in the competition.”

“I can fix the hem. The seam is supposed to be like that, it’s a little imperfect,” Jody explained, and while Tim looked far from satisfied with that answer, he seemed to let it go for now.

“If you’re prepared to defend the look to the judges, then go ahead and do what you feel is right,” he said, moving on to Ruby’s table next. Her dress was already beginning to look great; strapless and form fitting down to the hips, then erupting into a ruffled mermaid style from the mid-hip down. Dean suddenly felt inadequate, struggling as he was with the simpler design he was doing.

“You proved me wrong. This is turning out amazing,” Tim said, wrapping an arm around Ruby’s shoulders and giving her a half hug. “I’m not going to stand here and nitpick. You still have a lot to do, and you need to get on it.”

“I’ll pull it off,” Ruby said with a smile before getting right back to work. Tim left her to it, moving on to Meg.

“It’s beautiful. Very graceful,” he said as Meg turned the dress form for him to see it better. “I still wonder if it’s got enough of _you_ in it to get the judge’s attention. It still might be just too simple.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. I like it just the way it is,” Meg said stubbornly, and Tim nodded.

“As long as you’re confident, I’m not going to argue,” he said, still staring at the gown with uncertainty. “Just be sure to stand back and look at it from all angles. Make sure you’re exploiting every option you have here.”

She nodded, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that she wouldn’t be changing anything about it. If she liked it, that seemed to be the end all be all of the matter, and she wasn’t going to budge. Tim moved on to Kevin, probably a relief for him; at least Kevin was liable to listen to his advice and seriously take it into consideration.

Not that he needed much advice this time. Dean could see his dress pretty well, and it was turning out really good; a high Chinese style collar, sleeveless and form fitting, lace covered and with a lace train that draped on the floor at the back of the dress.

“I don’t know what you did for your last wedding dress that your teachers hated so much, but this one is sublime,” Tim said, gesturing to the dress. “With all the rough edges finished off, this will be a favorite, I’m sure.”

“Thanks. Geez, you have no idea how great it is to hear that right now,” Kevin said, looking both frazzled and relieved. After his last wedding dress fiasco, he was probably working himself into a frenzy over this one. Tim told him to keep it up, not bothering to take up more of his time before moving on to Charlie. Her critique wasn’t anything new; Tim reminded her not to lean on the retro, and wanted her to add her own details to the dress, even if he did like the headpiece she’d made.

Tim didn’t look nearly as confident when he went to Castiel’s workstation. Dean was probably doing a bad job of pretending to work and not look like he was listening in; he was worried about Castiel, who had what amounted to a skeleton of a dress and piles of fabric he seemed to be sewing together at random.

“Castiel, I hope you have a plan B,” Tim said, and Castiel took the pin out of where he’d been holding it in his mouth, pinning some of the light pink fabric together.

“Don’t need one. I can finish this,” he insisted, and while Dean really wanted to believe him, it was difficult looking at the mess of fabric at his station.

“I don’t want you to send half a garment down the runway. I just want you to be sure of your limits,” Tim said, and Castiel gave him a smile.

“Stop worrying. I know exactly what I’m doing with this. I promise, it will be a finished garment.”

“If you’re sure,” Tim said, looking like he wanted to say something else, but instead he moved on to Dean’s station. Dean dropped down on the stool by the table, taking a break from his work to let Tim have a look.

“So far it’s looking very good. Very whimsical,” he said with a nod. “Have you decided how much embellishment you’re going to use?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I have an idea. Going to start with the bits I definitely want to embellish, and if I have time after that, I’ll see if it needs more.”

“Well, it won’t need much. With the bodice detail and the shorter skirt, the last this you want to do is overwhelm the design.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Dean said, though he already had a mental picture of exactly what he wanted to do with the embellishment. He was fairly certain it wouldn’t be overboard or overdramatic.

Tim went back to the front of the room, turning to face all the designers. “I’m impressed, I really am. Some of you are pulling off amazing work that I never would have imagined being done in two days,” he said, not mentioning the few that definitely weren’t at that level. “Keep in mind that not only will the winner of this challenge have immunity, but also that billboard in Times Square. That’s not something you want to toss aside lightly.”

Oh, yeah. The billboard. Dean had been concentrating so much on his dress that he hadn’t even been thinking about maybe ending up with a design on a Times Square billboard. It seemed so ridiculously farfetched that he was trying to not get his hopes up about it.

“You have until eleven tonight, and precious little time tomorrow before the runway,” Tim continued. “I will see all of you in the morning. You’re in the final hours, so if you’re going to make any substantial changes at all, you need to do it now.”

That said, Tim left them to their work. It wasn’t much longer after that until Dean was finishing up with the skirt, and he pulled the stool over to the dress form and sat down, starting the really difficult work- adding the crystals and carefully cut pieces of lace as embellishment. This part had to be done entirely by hand, and by the time he realized he’d better force some dinner down, his fingertips were throbbing and his eyes aching with strain.

When he got up to go get food, he glanced over at Castiel’s station- and his jaw dropped. Suddenly, the whole thing was making sense, because the skirt was finally beginning to be put together; it was a huge tiered tri-layered bubble skirt, each layer of light pink fabric filled with tulle sewn into curves to create a fresh volume in each layer. The contrast between the tight, textured white bodice and the huge, voluminous pale pink skirt was eye catching and kind of amazing.

Yeah, between Castiel’s, Ruby’s, and Kevin’s, Dean didn’t have a chance. He had the feeling he’d be aiming for ‘safe’ on this one, but considering this was the first wedding dress he’d ever made, he couldn’t say he was disappointed. He’d done exactly what he aimed to do. While it would have been nice to have a billboard up in the middle of New York City, he knew that he was completely outdone on this one.

Hell, if the judges had a thing against short wedding dresses, he might even be in the bottom three.

Nobody wanted to quit working when the night’s deadline came along, most of all Jo. She looked wrecked as she picked up her bag and headed for the door, and Dean slung one arm around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring smile.

“You’ll be fine, Jo,” he insisted, not wanting to elaborate on who he thought was doing a whole lot worse, not when they were all together like this. “You’ll pull it off.”

“I’m never taking wedding commissions. Ever,” Jo muttered, leaning into him, and he laughed.

“Can’t wait to see that sign on the front of your stores. ‘All wedding dresses past this door will be burned’.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

*~~~~~~*

The next morning was worse than that one year when Dean had six prom dresses to finish up with 24 hours left till the prom.

Even Balthazar, who was usually unflappable, seemed nervous and on edge as he squinted at his dress lying on the table. Dean was no longer worried about overdoing it on the embellishment- he wouldn’t have _time_ to overdo it. He didn’t know if he even had the time to get done the amount that he’d originally planned as a minimum.

Charlie was the only one who seemed rather relaxed and ready to go. Her design was simple but definitely _Charlie_ , and she was working on the last details on the headpiece as everyone else was installing zippers and finishing hems. Castiel was quiet and determined, every movement sure as he circled the massive dress and finished up.

Dean didn’t feel ready in the least when he sensed someone looking over his shoulder, and he glanced up to find Jessica smiling and studying the dress. “It’s gorgeous!” she said, and Dean chuckled nervously, tying off the thread he was working with.

“Yeah, I just hope the judges think so. Come on, let’s get you on the assembly line,” he said, standing up and taking a deep breath before he led Jessica out of the room. The first stop was the salon, but he didn’t have to give a long explanation- he just told the stylist to leave her hair down and soften up her curls and give it some shine. The dress being both strapless and sort of whimsical, he didn’t want to make her styling too severe and put it at odds with the design.

Castiel was not nearly as simple. He was there at the same time, his dainty model seated calmly in the chair as Castiel told the stylist to go as big as possible- extensions, huge curls, enough that he’d probably be pushing it to get her through makeup.

Dean’s idea for the makeup was just as simple as the hair; when Jessica returned with her hair done and they moved her on to makeup, Dean told them to go with a glowing, natural look, nothing heavy or overdone.

Every spare second was spent on the skirt, sewing on crystals and then walking halfway across the room to look at the dress from a distance. He didn’t want it to turn out, in Meg’s words, ‘like a disco ball on the runway’. Even after he got Jessica into the dress he was still down on his knees, working up until the very last second when Tim was calling them to go down to the runway.

No more time; he’d done as much as he possibly could. Now he just had to hope it was enough. Or not too much.

He was sure that the judges made them wait longer than usual just to see them squirm. They weren’t allowed to chat with each other as they waited in their seats by the runway, while PAs and cameramen set up all the lighting and speakers, and all Dean could think about was how much of this time could have been used for extra work. He was sure that with the time they had to wait someone could have finished a hem or installed an entire zipper.

When the judges finally filed in, it was with a guest judge that Dean didn’t recognize; a tall blonde woman, her hair pulled back severely, like one of those stereotypical school teachers. Gabriel got his cordless microphone set up, and then he stepped onto the runway, giving the designers a wink.

“I trust you had fun the last few days,” he said, not waiting for a response that probably would have been not fit for family friendly TV. “Just to remind everyone, the winner this week will not only receive immunity, but will also have their design displayed on a billboard in Times Square. Not bad for two days of work. And Dean, you have immunity and can’t be sent home, so I hope you went for a home run.”

Dean laughed and shook his head in disbelief. Take a huge risk on his first wedding dress? No way. Little risks were acceptable, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“I’m sure you know our judges today. First, we have Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency. Next, we have Naomi Prevot, editor in chief of Eve Magazine. And our guest judge for this week is Hester Brea, owner of Brea Bridal, one of the nation’s top design houses specializing in wedding dresses.”

Well, he hadn’t recognized her look, but Dean definitely knew that name. She was the top name in wedding gowns, the kind of person who every celebrity wanted to make their wedding dress- and the kind of person who could afford to turn down a celebrity if she didn’t like them. She nodded at them once with a tight, forced smile, obviously prepared to be unimpressed by everything they did.

The idea of making a wedding gown in two days probably made her want to hurl. She took 6-8 months on each dress, sometimes more.

“And as usual, I’ll be judging your designs as well. Not wearing them, as disappointing as that is,” Gabriel said with a smirk. “So, let’s get on with it. Time for the runway!”

Gabriel hopped off the runway and made his way over to the judges’ seats, and the crew immediately went to work dimming the lights and moving the cameras in closer. It wasn’t long before the music started, and the first model appeared in silhouette behind the screen; Dean could tell just by the shape that it was Ruby’s.

It really was a beautifully executed wedding dress; it was nearly skintight from the strapless, straight neckline all the way down to the hips, the fabric lightly beaded, until the tulle layered skirt flared out from the mid-hip down. It trailed on the runway behind the model, who had to make a rather artful turn at the end of the runway to avoid tripping over the train.

It had a good shot of winning. It was well made and gorgeous, but at the same time, Dean had seen dresses like it before, and if he had, Hester Brea surely had.

Charlie’s dress turned the corner after that, a radical change from the traditional beauty of Ruby’s dress. Charlie’s was quirky, knee length with lace peeking out from under the off-white fabric of the skirt, a criss-crossed bodice, and short sleeves ruched up the outside. The headpiece really clenched the look, a flowery piece with a matching off-white half veil that barely covered Glinda’s eyes. Glinda looked radiant and happy as usual- and on her way back up the runway, she winked at Charlie and blew her a kiss.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Charlie, who was a little red in the face, and she didn’t even look at him before jabbing him with her elbow and telling him to shut up.

The next gown to appear was Jody’s, and Dean’s first thought was that she’d needed about two more days of work just to fix the hem. It was a deliberately wavy hem, but the fabric didn’t lend itself to hiding mistakes. The hem was just messy, and the whole look didn’t make up for it; the dress didn’t seem like anything special, and there was a seam right up the middle of the strapless bodice that just looked awkward.

Dean smiled when Jessica walked around the screen next. His dress wasn’t overwhelmingly embellished; in his opinion it had just enough shine from the crystals to add to the look. Jessica looked perfect as usual, not doing a bridal walk or a full on runway walk; she had a bounce to her step that was perfect for the dress.

After that was Meg’s dress, which while pretty, was rather underwhelming. It was draped in a Grecian style, tightly wrapped like a wide belt around the middle, slender straps, and a layered flowing skirt. In any other color it would have looked like a normal cocktail dress; the white color saved it and made it look at least somewhat bridal.

Meanwhile, Balthazar’s didn’t look bridal at all. The shiny gold fabric showed every ripple in the hem, but even if it had been done perfectly, there was still the fact that it looked like a more voluminous version of a slinky satin nightgown with beading on the bust and off-the-shoulder straps. The veil looked almost out of place, tucked in the model’s twisted updo and draping down her back.

When Castiel’s dress turned the corner, Dean couldn’t help but notice Hester sitting up a little straighter in her chair. He didn’t blame her; he would forever be confused as to how Castiel pulled off that look in such a short amount of time. The textured, tight, white strapless bodice hugged his model’s body down to her ridiculously tiny waist, and from there the dress went full avant garde; three poofy tiered layers of light blush fabric, filled with the tulle that had been sewn in curves to fill out each layer. The dress went from tight at the top to about the size of a Smart Car where it gently touched the floor. The model’s normally bone straight black hair had been blown into giant curls with extensions, much the same dramatic transition as the dress.

Dean didn’t feel like he was being biased when he thought that he would definitely pick that one to win.

He almost felt bad for Jo, that hers came out right after Castiel’s. Her dress was strapless off white satin with a tiered but streamlined floor length skirt, but it just looked…messy. Like she never fully settled on a concept. It certainly wasn’t anything that would catch Hester’s eye for any good reason. Dean felt his stomach twist at the idea of Jo possibly going home, even if he thought there was no way she would; after all, that was what he’d thought about Benny.

The last to come down the runway was Kevin’s, and if Dean didn’t know different, he would have assumed Kevin had been making wedding dresses all his life. The Asian style inspiration was evident in the high, curved collar, the sleeveless dress hugging the model’s curves all the way down to the floor. It was covered in a layer of lace, extending past the back hem of the dress in a graceful circular train. It looked wedding, and it looked designer, a perfect mix of modern and old fashioned; Dean was sure it would go over well. It had to.

What came after the runway was even worse than the runway itself; sitting there and squirming while the judges wrote on their note cards and whispered to each other, the words impossible to make out from the other side of the runway. It had to be a half hour before Gabriel finally gestured for them to get on the runway and line up, the runway lights turned up brighter as they got into place.

“If I call your name, then you are safe and can return to your seat,” Gabriel said, pausing for effect like he always did. “Our first safe designer is…Charlie.”

Charlie sagged with relief and smiled, turning and making her way back off the runway and toward the seats. Beside Dean Jo was shifting her weight uncomfortably, eyes locked on the floor as they waited for the next names.

“Our second safe designer is…Meg,” Gabriel said, waiting for her to leave the runway before continuing. “And our last safe designer for this week…is Dean.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief; safe. With the competition this week, safe was actually a great outcome, in his opinion; he thanked the judges and made his way back to the seats, relief for himself turning into fear for Jo as he dropped down into a chair.

“And here we have our top and bottom three,” Gabriel said, flipping to another card in his hands. “Our top three for this week are Ruby, Castiel, and Kevin; which means the bottom three this time are Jo, Balthazar, and Jody. And we’re going to talk to our top three first.”

The models came out, Ruby and her model having to scoot over a bit to make room for the massive skirt on Castiel’s model. And Castiel was the first one they turned to for questions; obviously they were curious about his look.

“Castiel, I have one question for you…how?” Gabriel asked, and Castiel hesitated, looking between the judges and the dress.

“Well, it’s mainly tulle rolled and sewn into each layer of the skirt…” he started, and Gabriel laughed.

“Not a serious question. I am just amazed that you finished this in two days,” he said, and Crowley nodded.

“I wouldn’t believe it if we didn’t have cameras on you the whole time. This does not look like two days of work.”

“To be honest, I would put this in my magazine in a heartbeat,” Naomi added. “It’s avant garde without taking it too far for the woman on the street. It’s glamorous but accessible.”

“This would not be out of place in one of my shows. If ever you’re looking for work after this competition, Mr. Novak, feel free to stop by my office,” Hester said, and Castiel smiled shyly, managing an overwhelmed ‘thank you’.

It was kind of adorable.

“Kevin. This is a great dress,” Gabriel said, moving on. “What gave you the idea?”

“Well, I mean, obviously some of my own family history came into play here. I wanted to do something non traditional but still…classic, in a way,” Kevin explained.

“You succeeded,” Hester said. “This gown is the kind that would sell extremely well. It is very marketable, and beautifully made.”

“The craftsmanship is wonderful,” Naomi said in agreement, and Crowley nodded.

“You did excellent in fusing the two different styles you’re working with here. Color me impressed,” he said, and Kevin grinned brightly.

“Thanks. Thank you,” he said, bouncing on his toes at the praise, and even throwing a smile to his model, who was doing a good job of faking being cheerful. Gabriel shifted in his chair to look at Ruby,  who was helping her model arrange her skirt.

“Ruby, I really appreciate the way you catered to your model’s body type,” Gabriel pointed out. “She looks amazing in that style.”

“The tailoring helps. This is impeccably tailored,” Crowley said, tapping his note card.

Naomi hesitated, her brow furrowed a little. “I do agree that it is beautifully made and it fits the model well, but...I’ve seen this dress before. While gorgeous, it is not really new.”

“I agree,” Hester said. “I’ve seen many dresses like this, but this one is exquisite, really. I must applaud your talent.”

“Thank you. I’ve always admired your work.” Ruby said softly, and she sounded a little resigned; it was probably because the one tiny critique they had about her work, put up against the others in the top three, would likely keep her from winning, and she knew it.

But at least she wasn’t in the bottom three, who were still waiting nervously, Jo seeming the most nervous of any of them as Gabriel set his sights on her. “Jo, what happened here?” he asked, and she winced a little, looking at her dress.

“I guess it just…got away from me a little,” she said, and Naomi raised her eyebrows.

“That might be an understatement. This just looks…messy,” she pointed out.

“Even if it were done perfectly, this would still be too ordinary. There’s nothing that really stands out about his look,” Hester said, shaking her head. “It’s rather unfortunate.”

“It never really clicked, did it?” Crowley asked, and Jo shook her head.

“No, it…it didn’t. I know, I dropped the ball this week. I can do so much better than this,” she insisted, and the judges spoke softly amongst themselves for a few moments before moving their attention on to Jody.

“Jody, Jody, Jody…what are we going to do with you?” Crowley said, shaking his head as he glanced down at his cards. “This is not the level of work that we know you are capable of.”

“I’ve done this kind of work with satin before, and it always turned out beautifully. I think the time just got away from me,” Jody insisted, looking at her own work with what finally looked to be a critical eye.

“You’ve yet to show us the same quality of work that got you through the auditions. We’re beginning to wonder if you have it in you to truly compete,” Naomi said, with a pointed look to the other designers; she obviously thought Jody couldn’t keep up. And maybe she couldn’t; maybe she was just one of those people who needed a casual time frame for their work. There was nothing wrong with that- but it obviously wouldn’t get far in this competition.

“I don’t believe I need to say anything. This looks like a fashion student’s first wedding dress attempt. Perhaps copying from a department store magazine,” Hester said, her words brutal enough that nearly everyone winced. To her credit, Jody kept her chin high and shoulders square.

“I can compete. I can win this, and I’ll prove it if you let me stay,” she insisted, and the judges eyed her skeptically before Gabriel shifted in his seat to face toward Balthazar.

“Balthy, we asked for a wedding dress and you made a nightgown. What gives?” he asked, and Balthazar snorted.

“Please. Everyone’s so afraid of a little color in their wedding dress, anything not white isn’t taken seriously. Close-minded, that’s what I call it,” Balthazar said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at the judges, as if daring them to challenge his little speech. Crowley snorted.

“I’ve seen some gorgeous odd colored wedding dresses in my career, and let me assure you, none of them had that kind of disaster for a hemline. You just can’t use that stitching with that fabric,” he said, pointing his pen toward the bottom hem of the dress. “It looks like you were going to attach a trim and didn’t have time.”

“I would perhaps go this tacky. If, say, a Kardashian came into my office,” Hester said, and while nearly everyone couldn’t help but laugh at that, Naomi gave her a frown.

“You know we’ll have to have that edited out.”

“Yes, edit away if you want. I’m not exactly worried about offending them,” Hester shot back, rolling her eyes. Naomi clenched her jaw, and Dean tried not to smile- but it seemed like Naomi had met her match for once, and she didn’t seem to like it one bit.

This judging panel was going to have a lot of editing, that was for sure.

“Well, we’ve heard from all of you, and now it’s time for us to deliberate,” Gabriel said, sitting up straighter in his chair and adjusting his note cards. “You’re free to leave the stage. We’ll call you all back as soon as we’re ready to announce our winner…and the designer going home.”

The top and bottom three left the stage first with their models, and Dean and the other two safe designers followed suit. As soon as he was off the stage, though, Dean darted forward to catch up with Jo, who looked vaguely like someone who’d hit a basket of puppies with a truck that morning.

“Hey, you’re good, okay? Trust me. You’re not leavin’,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders, and she stubbornly blinked back tears and nodded.

“Well, if you say so,” she said, weak sarcasm clinging to her voice as she forced a laugh. The waiting room had the usual lunch choices in it, some cold sandwiches and salad, though some of the designers seemed to be too worked up or nervous to eat. Dean wasn’t one of them; being safe was actually less stressful than being in the top three, and definitely the bottom three, so he grabbed two sandwiches and shoved one at Jo when he sat down between her and Castiel on the couch.

“You’re not human, are you? You’re secretly an alien or something,” Jo was muttering to Castiel, and Castiel’s cheeks reddened as he shook his head and laughed.

“Hardly. I just know wedding dresses fairly well,” he insisted, and Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Some people would call it humble, but Dean honestly thought Castiel was oblivious to just how amazing of a designer he was.

“Yeah, and I know engines, but I couldn’t throw one together in a day out of spare parts,” he joked, but Castiel just gave him a blank look, obviously having no baseline as to how hard it was to build a car engine.

At least Meg and Ruby kept to their own little group with Balthazar. The last thing Dean wanted was to listen to Meg’s complaining and sarcastic jabs when he was trying to keep Jo’s spirits high. It was clear to him that Jody was the one going home today, she had to be, but it was probably much harder to be that confident when you were the one in the bottom three.

Eventually Dean would end up in that bottom three, and he knew it. He wasn’t looking forward to it, that was for sure.

It was the shortest they’d had to wait yet. It seemed way too soon when a PA told them to head back out to the runway, and they shared concerned looks as they all made their way back out to the burning hot spotlights on the runway. Dean stepped down to the floor, heading over to the chairs for the safe designers.

“This was one of our easiest deliberations yet. We had a clear winner, and an undisputed loser, for the first time in a long, long time,” Gabriel explained with a bright smile. “So, we won’t make you wait any longer. The designer who will get immunity for the coming week and their design on a billboard in Times Square…is Castiel.”

Everyone else had pretty much known it was coming, but Castiel actually looked a little surprised; then again, it was a big prize, and probably a lot to take in. Dean couldn’t imagine how it felt to find out your work would be displayed in one of the busiest city squares in the country. The other designers clapped for him, some a little more half-hearted than others- Kevin was taking it gracefully and clapped Castiel on the shoulder in congratulations, but Dean could see the stiffening in Ruby’s shoulders and the way her jaw clenched.

“Thank you, This is…a lot,” Castiel managed, and Hester smiled at him- actually smiled, without the viciousness behind it that seemed inherent in her attitude.

“I meant what I said, Castiel,” she said, giving him a proud look. “If they’re idiotic enough to kick you out of this competition, your talent is welcome at my bridal studio here in New York.”

Castiel thanked her, sounding as if he hardly believed what she was saying, and then Gabriel was moving on. “That means that Kevin, you are safe…and you as well, Ruby,” he said, turning his attention to the designers who were at the bottom of the pack. Dean’s mood dropped a little as he watched Jo shift her weight nervously, hands clasped behind her, waiting for the verdict.

“Jo…you’re safe,” Gabriel said, and she let out a huge breath of relief; Dean grinned, because he’d known she would be. Gabriel’s attention turned to the last two designers, Balthazar and Jody.

“Balthazar…the only challenge you’ve excelled in is the one where you didn’t pick your own materials. We’re seriously concerned about your taste level. There’s a significant difference between elegant and trashy,” he said, for one with a serious look on his face. “Jody, you barely stayed in last week, and it wasn’t a unanimous decision to give you yet another chance. You didn’t take advantage of it, though.”

Gabriel paused, letting the silence hang in the air for what seemed like forever before he spoke again.

“Balthazar…you’re in. Jody, this means that you’re out this week. No more chances left.”

Jody looked down and nodded, managing to keep a smile on her face long enough to shake the judges hands and get backstage. Once they’d filed back there, though, she could no longer keep up the fake smile as Tim walked over and pulled her into a hug.

“It was a good try, Jody,” he said, patting her on the back before pulling away. “I’m going to have to ask you to go upstairs and clean up your space.”

Jody nodded, turning to say her goodbyes to the other designers; Dean felt bad that he wasn’t all that upset that she was leaving, but he hadn’t known her that well. She was nice, but maybe he would have felt worse if he’d spent more time with her. As it was, he was happy that Jo wasn’t leaving, and he was really happy that Castiel had won. A little more excited than he probably should have been, given that it meant he didn’t win himself.

He didn’t get a chance to congratulate Castiel before the PAs told them to go on ice and started calling them back for confessionals. Dean actually managed to lay back on the couch and doze while he waited, the excitement of the morning giving way to that bone-deep exhaustion from the long, stressful days.

He wasn’t sure how much longer they could function on so little sleep before someone had a breakdown. It happened every season; it would just be a question of who would crack first.

He finally got called back for confessional, right after Castiel, giving the other designer a smile as he passed by him. The producer started out with the usual questions; asking Dean to recall exactly how he’d felt at different points in the challenge, and having him rephrase things when he used the wrong tense.

Luckily they didn’t badger him much about Castiel this time, given that there had been so little free time to socialize at all during the challenge. And when they asked him about the results, he didn’t hesitate to say that the judges had gotten it exactly right this time. His confessional didn’t even take as long as usual, probably due to the fact that he wasn’t giving them any juicy gossip or controversial opinions.

He had the feeling they got enough of that from some of the other designers, anyway. And it wasn’t like there wouldn’t be other weeks when there would be plenty of conflict to bother him with. Probably next week, given his luck.

It was hours before all the confessionals were done and they were headed back to the apartments, cameras following closely. One of the cameramen fell into step right behind Dean and Castiel when they started talking.

“Hey, congrats on the win. You earned this one,” Dean said, and Castiel smiled, one of those actual real smiles that seemed so rare on him.

“Thank you, Dean. You did a good job as well. I don’t often take on the challenge of doing a short wedding dress,” he pointed out, and Dean shrugged, trying to ignore the camera that was almost close enough to be between them.

“Basically made a white prom dress and hoped it passed as bridal,” he joked, falling silent when Jo dropped back to walk beside them.

“Thanks for today, Dean,” she said sheepishly.

“Hey, it was nothing. I knew you wouldn’t be the one going home.”

“Not this time, anyway.”

Dean snorted. “Wonder what they’ll have us doing for the next one.”

“As long as it has nothing to do with duct tape, I’ll be okay,” Castiel muttered, and Dean laughed.

“Says the guy who made a dress out of water bottles.”

“They’ll probably take us to the zoo and make us fit tutus on grizzly bears,” Jo said, and Dean shushed her and shot a glance to the camera.

“Don’t give them _ideas_. They might actually do it.”

Castiel smirked. “Kevin might prefer a grizzly bear to his current model.”

That was enough to get them all laughing- and Dean couldn’t have cared less when Meg and Ruby looked over their shoulders to glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to reference pics (garment reference only, makeup and model not applicable):
> 
> [Castiel](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Castiel_zpse2a9bb46.jpg)
> 
> [Kevin](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Kevin_zps2f517428.jpg)
> 
> [Ruby](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Ruby_zps410b1684.jpg)
> 
> [Dean](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Dean_zpsade45bc2.jpg)
> 
> [Meg](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Meg_zpsf4f62bfa.jpg)
> 
> [Charlie](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Charlie_zpsc286d397.jpg)
> 
> [Jo](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Jo_zpsb3f53cf2.jpg)
> 
> [Balthazar](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Balthazar_zps0b86c5cf.jpg)
> 
> [Jody](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Wedding/Jody_zps960c002a.jpg)


	6. No Need to be Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first partner challenge brings all new tension to the workroom. Also, Gabriel is briefly the best host ever, and gives the remaining designers the best reward they could have asked for so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this fic pretty well plotted out now, so it should be fairly smooth sailing from here to the end. <3 Will keep my updates at the very least under two weeks apart, though I will always strive to get them up weekly.
> 
> Also, next week's chapter will be even more exciting than this week; I have special plans. So stay tuned, and thank you so much for all the reviews! This is really difficult for me to write sometimes, and the chapters are so damn long! (This one ended up 28 pages in Word, 12 point font, I'm serious.)

Dean had never met anyone so capable of being annoyingly cheerful, without fail, at any hour of the day. Nonetheless, it was 6am, they were all sitting by the runway wishing they’d had more coffee, and Gabriel came prancing out onto the runway with his usual glee.

 

“My top eight! I’m so proud. I totally called it,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Look around you, designers. Only eight left, and only three will be going to fashion week.”

 

Dean didn’t bother looking around him. He knew exactly who was there; Jo and Charlie with their spunk and quick wit, Kevin with his inspired (if sometime haphazard) designs, Meg and Ruby with their ruthless talent, Balthazar with his questionable fabrics and condom dress…

 

And of course, Castiel, who managed to pull off a miracle with every challenge.

 

Why was Dean in this company again? Because when he really thought about it, he realized just how much he felt outdone here. Then again, it wasn’t like the judges had any major complaints- yet.

 

“You’ve all done exceedingly well. One of our esteemed judges even mentioned that this season is the most talented season yet. So, today, you’re getting a little reward along with your challenge,” Gabriel was saying, the words finally breaking through Dean’s wandering thoughts. He sat up a little straighter at the mention of a reward- and his mind immediately went to a steak dinner or something. God, he missed real food. The other designers looked equally interested, and definitely more awake.

 

“Tim has all the information for you upstairs in the workroom. I’ll be seeing you on the runway, when you can pledge your undying love for me for getting you such a lovely present,” Gabriel said with a wink. “Ciao, designers.”

 

“It’s probably a life size cardboard cut out of him to put up in the workroom,” Charlie muttered as they got to their feet, and Dean shuddered.

 

“Please, no. I would lose all will to design. And possibly will to live,” he said, falling into step beside her. Ahead of them, Kevin was telling Castiel about some horrible teacher he’d had at fashion school, and Castiel was quietly listening along, though he still only looked about half awake. They probably all did. But for Castiel, Dean really didn’t mind- the longer the show went on, the less he seemed to focus on keeping his hair perfectly neat and styled.

 

So the past couple of days, he’d been sporting some distractingly sexy bedhead. It really wasn’t fair.

 

“Hello? Earth to Dean?” Charlie said, waving a hand in front of him face, and he quickly snapped out of it and cleared his throat.

 

“Yeah, sorry, what?” he asked, a blush tinting his cheeks, and Charlie rolled her eyes.

 

“You two are _hopeless_.”

 

Dean would have argued, but they were entering the workroom at that point- and when they saw Tim, all of the tension that had been alleviated by promises of a ‘reward’ came flooding back in.

 

He was holding a small black bag that was well known to anyone on or watching the show. The dreaded ‘button bag’ contained eight buttons in it, one with each designer’s name written on it.

 

It meant they were doing a partner challenge, or a group challenge, and neither was a good thing.

 

“Good morning designers!” Tim said, his cheerfulness a perfect mirror of the apprehension that had swept through the designers. “As you may have guessed, for this challenge you’ll be working in teams of two.”

 

Dean felt his stomach sink down somewhere into his toes. Teams of two; what if he ended up with Meg? They’d probably both be eliminated for the inevitable bloody warfare that would ensue. Dean didn’t know if sewing machines could be used as weapons, but he was sure Meg would find a way; she wouldn’t settle for boring scissors in her murders, he knew it.

 

“Whatever happened to a reward?” Jo asked, her shoulders slumped, and Tim laughed.

 

“I’ll get to that. Let’s get your teams together first,” he said, opening the bag and reaching into it. He pulled out the first button without fanfare, followed immediately by the second.

 

“Ruby, you’ll be working with…Castiel!” he said, and Dean winced. Poor Castiel; it wasn’t Meg, but it wasn’t far off, either. Castiel, for his part, did a good job of hiding his distaste, and he merely nodded as Ruby moved to stand beside him. She certainly wasn’t hiding a thing; she looked incredibly displeased.

 

“And our next team is….Meg,” Tim started, and Dean couldn’t sworn that the tension in the room dialed up to eleven as everyone waited to see who would be working with her. “Meg, you’ll be working with Kevin on this one.”

 

 

Poor Kevin.

 

Meg actually looked relieved, probably because she hadn’t been paired up with Dean or Castiel, and Dean really couldn’t blame her. He eyed the remaining designers- Jo, Charlie, and Balthazar. Whoever worked with Balthazar would be at an obvious disadvantage, considering he’d been in the bottom three so much.

 

“Our next team will be…Balthazar, and Dean!” Tim said, and Dean barely contained a groan of frustration. Shit. Now he would have to not only take care of his own work load, but police Balthazar’s half of it for lingerie and trashiness. He scooted over to stand beside the tall blonde, trying to remind himself that it could have been much, much worse.

 

“And that means our last team is Jo and Charlie,” Tim said, setting the bag aside. “Designers, this week we have a very unique challenge for you. So unique that we had to have this fabric custom made and shipped here; and I guarantee it’s some of the most expensive fabric you’ll ever work with.”

 

Well, that sounded promising- or ominous, depending on how much he believed Tim’s tone. Tim straightened up and stepped off to the side, out of the way of the door. “And to deliver this fabric, we thought we’d get some extra special delivery people,” he said, just as the door opened- and the first thing Dean saw was his mother, a large box in her hands, and Sam towering just behind her in the doorway.

 

“Mom!?” he said breathlessly, already moving around the table to greet her, ignoring the other people that came in behind them- other family and friends, he was sure, but right now all that homesickness was grabbing him by the throat and making it hard to fight back tears.

 

Mary put the box down on the table and pulled Dean into a tight hug, quickly joined by Sam as well. Dean hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed her these past few weeks until she was right here, the flowery smell of her perfume making it easy to imagine he was back at home.

 

“You look so tired, honey,” she said as she pulled away, gripping him by the shoulders to get a good look at him, and he laughed.

 

“Gee, thanks, Mom,” he said, giving Sam a grin. “How’d they manage to get you away from your books? Haven’t even seen you since Christmas!”

 

“Evidently, when you ask a professor for a week off, it holds a lot more weight when you have a notarized letter from a TV network attached,” he said, looking around at the other designers and their families. “How many of you are left, anyway?”

 

“Eight.”

 

Tim clapped his hands, interrupting the happy reunions. Charlie wasn’t far away, her arm wrapped around a woman who had to be her mother, and her other hand wiping away happy tears.

 

“Alright, designers. We said we had a reward for you, and we were not kidding. You have until two o’clock to spend out on the town with the family and friends who’ve come to visit, but you must be back here by two to begin your challenge,” he explained, tapping his watch. “And off the record, the producers have only allowed this under the assumption that you will share no specifics about the show so far with your visitors or anyone you speak to outside. Everyone understand?”

 

All the designers nodded, and though Dean heard him, he was a little distracted- looking around the room, he couldn’t find Castiel. Meg and Ruby were mingling with women who looked to be about their age, probably friends or sisters, Kevin was nearby with what were definitely his mother and his girlfriend, Jo was happily chatting with her mother, Balthazar was talking to an equally flamboyant guy who was nearly as tall as him…but Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

 

Dean told Mary and Sam to wait up for just a second, and he found the nearest PA, tapping her on the shoulder. “Hey, where’s Cas?” he asked, and she blinked in surprise, looking down at her clipboard.

 

“Castiel? He’s in the break room, why?”

 

“Didn’t anyone come to see him?”

 

She flipped to another page on her clipboard, tapping her pen on it and shaking her head. “No, ‘fraid not. He didn’t list anyone. Didn’t give us the go ahead to try and contact family,” she said with a shrug before a cameraman was pulling her away to ask a question.

 

Dean couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just walk out to enjoy a sunny day outside with his family while Castiel sat alone in the break room. He held up a finger toward his mother and Sam, hoping they wouldn’t get worried as he made his way through the workroom to the break room.

 

Castiel was sitting curled up on the couch there, his sketchbook in his lap, aimlessly sketching what looked to be some kind of landscape. Dean was hyper-aware of the camera following just behind him, and he quickly came up with an idea, one that wouldn’t put Castiel on the spot about his obvious lack of visitors.

 

“Come on, you,” he said, holding out his hand to Castiel, who looked up at him in bewildered surprise.

 

“…what?”

 

“I said come on. You’re with us today,” Dean insisted with a bright smile. “No fuckin’ way are you missing a chance to get out of this god forsaken building for a few hours. Come get some lunch with us, it’ll be fun.”

 

Castiel hesitated for a few moments, his features tense until he reached out and finally took Dean’s hand. Dean pulled him to his feet with a grin, the sketchpad left forgotten on the couch as he pulled Castiel out to the main room, where his mother and Sam were the only people left aside from a couple PAs- and of course, the camera hot on Dean’s heels.

 

“Cas, this is my mom, Mary, and my brother Sam,” he said, reluctantly letting go of Castiel’s hand before his brother got the wrong idea and latched onto it like a bulldog with a shiny new bacon flavored chew toy. “Mom, Sam, this is Castiel. He’s one of the best designers here, I’m tellin’ you.”

 

Castiel blushed, his back ramrod straight as he reached out to shake hands with both of them. “He’s exaggerating, I assure you.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Castiel. You joining us for lunch?” Mary asked, and right then Dean wanted to hug her again for immediately understanding what was going on. Castiel hesitated and glanced at Dean before answering.

 

“I…suppose I am. If you don’t mind?”

 

Sam smirked and shook his head, leading the way toward the door. “Not a bit. You can correct Dean if he tries to exaggerate his own wins,” he said, and Dean smacked him as they left the workroom, cameraman in tow.

 

At least Dean got to laugh at Mary and Sam as they both adjusted to having a camera over their shoulder with every step they took. Dean was so used to it by now that he almost felt weirder when there wasn’t some guy standing right behind him with a giant camera; but it was definitely something that took some getting used to. Okay, a lot of getting used to.

 

“So, you win anything yet?” Sam asked with a smirk as they made their way out of the building, onto streets that were rapidly filling with people as the morning went on. Dean gave him a look.

 

“Stop trying to get me in trouble. You know I can’t tell you that,” he said, and Sam laughed.

 

“Well, at least tell me how you’ve been doing.”

 

“If I weren’t doing decent, you wouldn’t be visiting me right now,” Dean pointed out, suddenly wondering if the eliminated designers would get a visit, too- probably not. He suddenly felt bad for Benny, who’d been so homesick for his girlfriend.

 

It wasn’t far from Brighton’s to Central Park, and that’s where they ended up first; it was nice to be around something other than cars and concrete, even if only for one morning out of so many. He took in a deep breath of the clearer air, noticing that Castiel seemed to relax too, once they were on the shaded path below the trees.

 

“Customers at the shop have been asking where you went. Or, they were, until last week,” Mary said, and Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

“Last week?”

 

“They started playing the commercials for the new season since it starts airing next week. You’ve already been all over TV, Dean,” Sam explained. “They’re really playing up the ‘mechanic’ thing.”

 

Dean laughed nervously. “I figured they would,” he muttered, nervousness beginning to kick in again. Despite the cameras, sometimes it was easy to get caught up and forget that this was going to all be a TV show, broadcast all over the country. By this time next week, evidently, the first episode would have aired, and after that there would probably be no more casual outings like this- he wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without getting recognized.

 

Some people may have fed off that kind of attention, but Dean was not one of those people. And he was pretty sure Castiel wasn’t, either.

 

“They’ve been showing you two together a lot in the commercials. Along with the redhead,” Mary said, giving Castiel a gentle smile. “It’s nice to see that some people can still be friends in the middle of a competition.”

 

“Dean’s been kind to pretty much everyone,” Castiel pointed out, catching Dean’s eye for a moment before looking away with a hint of a smile.

 

Sam didn’t sound convinced. “’Pretty much’ everyone?”

 

“Well, there are some among us who Mother Theresa herself would have thrown out a window by now,” Castiel muttered, and Sam chuckled.

 

“Yeah, I can see why Dean likes you,” he said, and Dean shoulder checked him almost straight into the bushes.

 

He totally deserved it.

 

They continued the walk as the path began to get more active with people- dog walkers, joggers, people out for a stroll; some of them paid no mind at all to the camera, reminding Dean of just how different New York City was from anywhere else he’d been. Hell, they were used to entire roads being shut down to film movies and stuff; one TV camera was hardly noteworthy for them. Now that he knew about the commercials, though, he did notice the looks that he and Castiel were getting- the kind of looks that screamed ‘is that who I think it is?’, or ‘hey, it’s those guys from the commercials’. It was an odd feeling, to say the least, and they made their way out of the park and found a quiet restaurant with a covered outdoor patio. The camera alone was enough to get the manager to sit them at the other end of the patio from the other patrons.

 

“How’s Bobby handling the shop with just Garth there?” Dean asked, already imagining the worst- but Mary just laughed.

 

“He’s doing fine. Dawn brought in her Mercedes again.”

 

“Again? What did she do this time?”

 

“Forgot to open the garage door before she backed out.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes with a groan, sitting back in his chair as Sam ordered a bottle of wine for them. Dean gave him a curious look as the waiter went to fetch their drinks.

 

“Wine? Really, Sam? It’s barely lunch, you aren’t turning into a wino on me, are you?”

 

Sam shrugged. “It’s a free vacation to New York City, my brother’s going to be a TV star, so I’m splurging a little. We’re celebrating,” he insisted. “And it’s my treat. We can take it out of that 200 I owe you.”

 

“You wish.”

 

“Boys, both of you behave,” Mary said, playfully smacking Sam with her cloth napkin. “Castiel, do you live here in the city?” she asked, obviously trying to redirect the conversation to something a little more mature than ‘haha, alcohol before noon’. Castiel nodded, back into that quiet persona that seemed to take over when he was around strangers- it was how he’d been with Dean and Charlie too, at first.

 

“Yes. Not far from here, actually.”

 

“Must be expensive.”

 

Castiel laughed, just barely. “Incredibly so.”

 

“I can sympathize. If I weren’t in the dorms and getting scholarships, I wouldn’t be able to afford to live anywhere near my university,” Sam pointed out.

 

“Dean said you’re studying…law, correct?” Castiel asked, and Sam nodded in reply. Castiel shot Dean a look, and- was that a _mischievous_ look? From Cas?

 

“He’s very proud of you,” Castiel continued, and Dean groaned and elbowed him.

 

“Traitor.”

 

“Well, he’s going to see all your bragging when they air the episodes, anyway.”

 

“I hate you, Cas.”

 

“Aw, Dean, I’m touched,” Sam teased, right about the time the waiter returned with their wine.

 

It was amazing how comfortable the conversation was after that, considering the fact that Cas had just met Mary and Sam; but they seemed to understand that he just wasn’t a very talkative person, and definitely not up for volunteering much personal info. Dean got a thorough update about what was going on back home and what Sam was up to out at Stanford, though, which made the lunch outing even better; he’d been dying to know what his family was up to, but he wasn’t allowed to contact them at all.

 

He tried not to think about the fact that after this, he likely wouldn’t see them again till after the final cut before fashion week- because even if he got eliminated, he would still be stuck here in the city with the other eliminated designers. Though he wouldn’t mind spending more time with Benny, if it came down to that.

 

As all truly fun things tended to, lunch was over far too soon. Dean couldn’t help but drag his feet a little on the way back to the workroom, where Meg already sat waiting, and Kevin was in the middle of a tearful goodbye to his mother and girlfriend. Dean sighed, turning back to Mary and Sam.

 

“Thanks for coming to visit. I’ve been going stir crazy in here,” he said, hugging Sam first, and then his mother. Castiel held his hand out for a handshake- and Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face when Sam pulled him into a bear hug instead, followed by a gentler hug from Mary.

 

“You keep him out of trouble, okay?” she said to Castiel, ignoring Dean’s mock-insulted ‘hey!’

 

“I’ll bet you another two hundred that you don’t make fashion week,” Sam said with a smirk, and Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re on. Better start saving your pennies.”

 

And as quick as that, they were ushered out by a PA. The remaining designers filtered in slowly, saying their goodbyes, some managing to keep from crying and some not so much. Castiel hesitated and then looked at Dean as if he was about to say something, but before he could, Tim’s voice interrupted the quiet of the room.

 

“Everyone’s back, then?” he asked, and Dean glanced around, counting heads- but he stopped when he got to Charlie, who was making a valiant effort to look like she wasn’t crying. He grabbed her arm and tugged her over into a one-armed hug, and she laughed, swiping at the tears on her face and murmuring a quiet ‘thanks’.

 

“Alright, designers, I’d like you to gather round,” Tim continued, stepping over to one of the white mystery boxes that their family members had brought in. They all gathered around the table, the depression of family and friends leaving slowly being replaced with curiosity as to what was so special about the fabric.

 

At first, nothing seemed special about it. In fact, it looked…cheap. It was rough and white, with a texture that looked like a ribbed potato sack, and an overly thick selvage on one side of the fabric.

 

Then, Tim fiddled with something at the very end of the selvage, a PA flipped the lights out, and what made the fabric so special became very clear.

 

It glowed. The whole surface of the fabric glowed a vibrant, bright red, casting a tint of crimson over Tim’s features as he unrolled more of the fabric.

 

“This is something they call ‘luminous fabric’. It’s created using fiber optics,” he explained, trailing one finger down the selvage. “Like any other fabric, it can be cut and sewn; except on the selvage. That side of the fabric must remain intact, other than the rough cuts for the pattern pieces, because you really don’t have time to be messing with re-hooking up the battery packs. Also, you absolutely cannot fold it perpendicular to the direction the fiber optics run, or you’ll damage them; you have to fold the fabric parallel to the fiber optic lines.”

 

The lights flipped back on, and Tim flipped the tiny switch on what Dean now could see was a battery pack. The fabric went right back to being pure white, and he set it aside.

 

“You and your teammate have five different colors of this fabric in your box. You don’t have to use all of them, but you can only use the luminous fabric for this challenge. You’ll have two days to complete this challenge, and we’re not restricting you any further on this than the fabric. You can make whatever you want.”

 

Dean glanced over and caught Balthazar’s eye, and the man looked positively ecstatic- and now, Dean was pretty sure he’d ended up with a good partner for this. Glowing fabric? They would need to make something equally dramatic, and if he could keep Balthazar on line as far as taste, they could probably come up with something stunning.

 

“What about our models?” Kevin asked, and Dean could tell he was hoping that he could avoid his model for yet another week. Tim didn’t disappoint him.

 

“You and your partner will choose which of your two models to use for this challenge,” Tim explained, looking from one designer to the next. “Any other questions?”

 

No one spoke up. Tim clapped his hands together with a smile. “Well then, you have until ten o’clock tonight, and all day tomorrow. Get to work!”

 

Dean made his way over to his workstation, where their box of fabric sat waiting on the tabletop. He opened it up as Balthazar leaned on the table beside him, and on top of the pile of fabrics was a chart with pictures of each color inside the box, turned on in dark lighting.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m fond of that red he showed us,” Balthazar pointed out, and Dean nodded. Couldn’t argue with that; it was a striking color.

 

“I agree,” he said, handing Balthazar the chart to look at. “So, red and what else?”

 

Balthazar scoffed and tossed the chart on the table. “And nothing else. It’s dramatic enough, with the right design, it won’t _need_ any other colors. I really don’t want it to look as if Rainbow Brite vomited glowsticks on my garment.”

 

Dean snorted out a laugh, pausing to consider. “So, what? You think a gown will do it?”

 

Balthazar responded by dropping his sketchpad on the table, opening it up to a blank page and starting to sketch. “We’ll do a plunging neckline, and a tiered skirt. The selvage is brighter than the rest of the fabric, it’ll make the tiers stand out.”

 

“That won’t be enough. It needs more impact.”

 

“Well then, let’s hear your bright idea, wonder boy.”

 

Dean bit his lip and studied the fabric chart, then the sketch Balthazar had done. He pulled the sketchbook over, and carefully began to sketch in a belt almost big enough to be a corset, from just under the breast to just below the waist. “The wrong side of the fabric doesn’t glow as much. It’s almost black when the fabric lights up,” he explained, shading the belt in. “If we turn the fabric over to the wrong side for this piece, the red underneath will just barely shine through.”

 

Balthazar clapped a hand down on his shoulder hard enough to almost make him lose his balance. “Knew you were useful for something, despite being a Yank,” he teased, reaching over to pull the fabric out of the box before pushing the box aside. “Shall we get started?”

 

It only took a few moments to get organized. Balthazar was going to work on the tiered skirt, while Dean would focus on the bodice, since it had been his idea. It didn’t take much to convince Balthazar to use Jessica as a model for this instead of his own- in his words, his model ‘had about as much personality on the runway as a paper bag in a strong wind’.

 

Even though Dean’s work was starting smoothly, it wasn’t the same for a few of the other teams around them. Jo and Charlie seemed to be having fun, but behind him, Dean could already hear Meg fussing over Kevin’s work.

 

“Why did you make it sleeveless? It’s going to look tacky like that,” she said, leaning over Kevin’s shoulder as he sketched. Kevin sighed and set his pencil down.

 

“It won’t look tacky. Adding sleeves will be too much, it’ll overwhelm the design.”

 

Meg snorted. “If they don’t like it, I’m not gonna hesitate to throw you right under the bus, twerp.”

 

Dean thought he heard Kevin mutter something like ‘then throw away, bitch’, but by then Meg was already on her way back over to the dress form, fabric in hand. Dean shot a glance over at Ruby’s workstation, where she and Castiel were working in near silence- but not a comfortable silence, that was for sure.

 

Of course, the silence didn’t last for long.

 

“You’re not going to have enough of that color,” Ruby said to Castiel, her voice tense and her tone condescending. Castiel didn’t even look up from where he was chalking a temporary blue line onto the white fabric.

 

“I assure you, there will be plenty enough to do what we planned.”

 

“Not if you cut the pattern like that. You need to turn it, put the selvage on the other side.”

 

“I’m perfectly capable of cutting a pattern, Ruby.”

 

Ruby snorted and crossed her arms. “Evidently not, if I have to correct everything you’re doing.”

 

“I am not a seamstress for you,” Castiel snapped, smacking his scissors down on the table and making just about everyone jump- it was the loudest Dean had heard him speak so far. “I know what I’m doing and I won’t have you standing over my shoulder second guessing my work. Do your own work, and I’ll worry about mine.”

 

There was a heavy pause before Ruby rolled her eyes and went back to what she’d been working on, and Dean really wanted nothing more than to go over there and make sure Castiel wasn’t going to lose his mind- but before he could even move, Balthazar jabbed him with a pen.

 

“Your boyfriend will be fine. He can handle one temperamental bitch all by himself, promise,” he said with a smirk. “However, we won’t be fine if you don’t buckle down and get that bodice worked out.”

 

“He’s…not my boyfriend.” Dean muttered, reluctantly turning back to his work, but Balthazar just laughed.

 

“Sure he’s not,” he said, patting Dean on the shoulder before going back to cutting his fabric.

 

It was both good and bad that the fabric was so hard to work with. Good because it seemed to distract everyone from the drama going on for long stretches of time, but bad because…well, it was hard to work with, and they didn’t have a whole lot of time to adjust. With the selvage being brighter than the rest of the fabric, he had to be careful how he positioned each piece of the fabric. They had instructions on how to reattach wiring to the extra battery packs for where they had to cut the selvage, but they didn’t have time to do a bunch of wiring on top of sewing. Plus, any visible seams were downright garish in this fabric.

 

He was beginning to think he was in over his head here. And having to listen to Meg constantly badgering Kevin right behind him wasn’t helping in the least. Only Charlie and Jo seemed to genuinely be having a good time while they worked.

 

Their dinner breaks were scattered and haphazard, as they always tended to be, but at least there weren’t any other major interruptions, aside from a PA coming through to ask each team which model they were using. They’d already decided on Jessica, Kevin gladly let Meg choose her model, Charlie used puppy dog eyes until Jo agreed to use Gilda, and surprisingly enough, Ruby asked to use Castiel’s model- evidently she thought her own model wasn’t as striking on the runway.

 

By the time the clock struck ten, though, Dean felt like he’d barely gotten anything done at all. The fabric he’d been working with in no way resembled a bodice yet, he was still struggling to work the seams out without them looking messy, and Balthazar…well. Balthazar didn’t seem worried in the least, despite being pretty much in the same boat as Dean.

 

Pretty much everyone seemed frustrated at this point, some of them more about the fabric, and some about the partner they’d been stuck with for the project. Dean couldn’t imagine getting stuck working on this with Meg.

 

Every other night, Dean had utterly collapsed the second he got back to the apartment. Tonight, though, he didn’t fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow, like every other time; his mind was racing with worries, about the fabric, about the time frame, and about Castiel. About how he had no one listed to come and visit him here. He’d just been planning to sit alone in the break room all morning and wait for everyone to get back; he would have done just that had Dean not dragged him out.

 

Eventually, he gave up on sleep for the moment, kicking the covers down and heading out into the main room. He didn’t expect to see a cameraman still there; normally those guys left right after everyone fell asleep for the night. He saw why when he fully turned the corner, though- Castiel was still up, sitting on the couch and looking out the window. The city was lit up bright outside, to the point where he could almost imagine it was still daytime, were it not for the slivers of black sky still showing between the buildings.

 

“Hey,” he said, stopping to grab two sodas from the fridge before he joined Castiel on the couch. He held one out, and the other designer stared at it for a moment before taking it.

 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Castiel asked softly, and Dean nodded.

 

“Yeah. Too wired up from today.”

 

Castiel smiled, just barely. “It was a busy day. That fabric is…very difficult.”

 

“That’s an understatement,” Dean said with a snort, letting a comfortable silence hang in the air for a few more moments before he spoke again. “Hey, can I…ask you a question?”

 

Castiel looked away from the window, giving Dean a slightly curious– and slightly worried- look. “Of course.”

 

“How come there was no one set up to come visit you?”

 

It wasn’t a great moment to ask, of course, but considering the 24-7 camera presence, there probably wouldn’t be any great moments to ask. Castiel frowned and looked back out the window with a halfhearted shrug.

 

“I work overtime and design when I’m not working. I just haven’t had occasion to be out making friends.”

 

“You said you had siblings though, right?”

 

Dean could see Castiel tensing up, could practically feel the heavy blanket of tension that had settled over them; but before he could take back the question, Castiel spoke again.

 

“My family disowned me when I came out. I haven’t spoken to any of them in…ten years, now, except my sister. But she killed herself two years ago,” he explained, and Dean swallowed hard, dropping his gaze to stare at his feet. Well, now he felt like a total asshole.

 

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

 

“It’s alright,” Castiel said with a barely noticeable shrug. “It was bound to come up eventually.”

 

Another silence, but this time, it was a more comfortable silence. Dean was torn between feeling bad for Castiel, being pissed off at his family for being a bunch of douchenozzles, and at the same time, feeling strangely relieved that Castiel let him in. That he felt comfortable enough to tell Dean something that important, camera be damned. And when had they moved so close together? He hadn’t even noticed till now, Castiel’s leg almost pressed up against his on the couch.

 

“I wanted to thank you,” Castiel suddenly said, and Dean looked up, confused.

 

“For what?”

 

“For being so kind,” Castiel said, fiddling with the tab on his can of soda. “I came into this expecting people to be…ruthless. Cruelly competitive. You didn’t have to help me with the prom challenge, or introduce me to your family…but you did. And I do appreciate it.”

 

Dean smiled. “Hey, it’s nothing. I didn’t come into this expecting to make it all the way to fashion week, so no sense in making enemies,” he pointed out, and Castiel looked up at him with a genuine smile, the kind that reached his eyes, the kind that made Dean’s stomach do a cartwheel inside him.

 

“You’re an amazing designer. You’ll make it to fashion week,” he said, and Dean wondered if he looked as dumbstruck as he felt, this close to Castiel and fighting these damn chick flick emotions.

 

“If I go to fashion week, you’re going too. I’m not taking on all that insanity alone. Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Castiel agreed, and they were close enough that if he just moved a little, he could close that gap, and-

 

Castiel jerked away as the camera moved in closer, the giant lens shattering the moment like a battering ram, and right then Dean wanted nothing more than to throw his drink on the camera and the guy operating it. Unfortunately, that camera probably cost more than he made in a year, so all he could do was give the camera a halfhearted glare.

 

They didn’t talk much after that- Castiel asked how things were going with Balthazar, and Dean expressed his condolences that Castiel had ended up stuck with Ruby- but it wasn’t long before the exhaustion was taking its toll on both of them. Dean reluctantly said goodnight, finishing off his drink and slipping back into the bedroom, where Kevin had managed to kick half the covers off his bed. Dean snorted and shook his head, and this time when he dropped down on the bed, he actually managed to fall asleep.

 

*~~~~~~*

 

The next morning, Dean felt like a zombie.

 

He and Castiel had gotten less sleep them everyone else, though Castiel seemed to be showing it less, at least. But the extra exhaustion on top of the stress wasn’t helping either of them with their designs- Dean was struggling to work the seaming on the bodice, and Castiel was pointedly ignoring Ruby’s snide remarks- he’d evidently given up trying to actually work with her. Dean couldn’t blame him; it seemed like Ruby hated everything Castiel did.

 

And just when Tim came in to visit with the teams, Dean realized he’d completely screwed up the seaming.

 

Like…completely and utterly, as in, time to scrap it and start over on the waistband entirely.

 

 

He didn’t have time to tell Balthazar before Tim was heading for their table, and Balthazar stood up and backed away from the dress form so Tim could see the in progress tiered skirt. He had two tiers of the three nearly finished; Dean didn’t know how he’d managed it, but he had.

 

“You’re taking a risk by only using one color,” Tim pointed out, and Dean grabbed the in progress bodice, hoping Tim wouldn’t notice the royally fucked up part of it.

 

“We’re turning the fabric over below the bust down just past the waist. It creates a kind of…crimson waistband. The light doesn’t come through very well,” he explained, and Tim nodded, still looking kind of concerned.

 

“It that all that’s going on the top?”

 

“It’s a plunging neckline and a low back,” Balthazar explained. “We’re keeping most of the focus on the skirt.”

 

“Well, the skirt is looking fantastic. As long as you think it’ll have enough pizzazz, then…by all means, keep at it.”

 

Dean smiled weakly. “Yeah, we will. Thanks, Tim.”

 

Well…at least one of them was doing well. Dean grabbed the last remnant of the fabric left over and started to redo the waistband, brushing off Balthazar’s raised eyebrow.

 

He could do this, he could. He had to.

 

Tim moved on to Castiel and Ruby’s workstation, and the first thing he did was laugh. “Well, I think the temperature in here dropped about thirty degrees,” he joked, immediately sensing the huge amount of tension between the two. “It looks like you’re making two different dresses.”

 

Ruby slid her sketchbook across the table to him. “That’s what we’re going for. At least, that’s what I’m going for, but I’m not exactly getting cooperation.”

 

Castiel let out a sigh. “I’m not working _for_ you, Ruby. I’m working _with_ you. And until you treat me as such, we’ll get _nowhere_.”

 

“You two really need to work this out,” Tim said, shaking his head. “This could be a wonderful design, but right now, it’s a little schizophrenic. It looks like you’re each making a different dress.”

 

Unfortunately, Tim’s speech didn’t seem to be breaking the ice. Instead, Ruby just gave Castiel a glare, as if he was the only one causing trouble for them. Tim gave them one last bit of advice- make it work- before he moved on to Meg’s and Kevin’s station. What they had so far was actually kind of amazing; a plunge neck top with ruffles all around the collar and down the front of the dress, white leading into a dimly lit dark blue as it went down toward the waist. No skirt yet, but at this rate, Dean wasn’t really worried for them.

 

“This looks fantastic,” Tim said, circling the dress form. “What do you have planned for the skirt?”

 

“Tiered, angled layers with a scalloped edge, all the way down,” Meg explained, and Tim looked surprised.

 

“You think you have time to pull that off?”

 

Kevin looked up from where he was wiring up a battery pack. “Yeah, I think we can manage it. Might be tight, though,” he said, and Meg rolled her eyes.

 

“It won’t be tight at all. We’ll be plenty ready,” she insisted, and Tim studied the mostly done top for a few moments longer.

 

“Alright then. Keep at it, you have a lot to do,” he said, turning to head to Jo and Charlie’s station- and when he got there, he winced.

 

“You know you didn’t have to use all the colors provided, right?” he asked, and Charlie laughed.

 

“We just thought it would be cool to do a dark to light gradient, from the top down to the bottom,” she explained, but Tim didn’t look convinced at all. Jo paused in her work, obviously waiting for Tim’s verdict.

 

“I’m glad you two are having fun, but I think you’re being a bit reckless. This looks like a dress off some kind of children’s cartoon,” he said, and Dean winced as Charlie’s face fell.

 

“Well, I mean…the fabric was kind of fantastical, so we wanted to go all the way with it.”

 

“There’s a difference between walking the edge of too much, and pulling a Thelma and Louise right over the line,” Tim pointed out. “I would really think about this. Reconsider and do some editing. There’s still time.”

 

The girls murmured their thanks as Tim walked away, but now both of them had stopped working, and were instead studying what they’d done so far and talking worriedly. Dean was worried for them, but at the same time, he had hours of work to make up for- on the inside, he was panicking.

 

“Alright designers. Your models will be in later today for a fitting. All of you need to really put your nose to the grindstone here,” Tim said. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, and I hope to see you runway ready.”

 

Tim’s words before he left made the whole atmosphere that much more tense. Even Charlie and Jo were buckling down now, less laughter and chatting from their station as they worked. But it wasn’t long before they both pulled Dean away from his station, insisting that he eat lunch with them; they didn’t bother asking Castiel, because at the moment, he and Ruby were both in the sewing room ‘discussing’ how to handle part of their skirt. Discussing as in Ruby saying what she wanted, and then scoffing when Castiel disagreed on a single stitch.

 

At least they had a decent lunch today; a local place had brought in subs, each labeled by what kind they were, and Dean grabbed a turkey sub and a soda and collapsed onto the couch.

 

“My brain is going to melt,” he complained as Jo and Charlie joined him.

 

“Mine first,” Jo muttered, and then Charlie jabbed Dean with her elbow.

 

“Why did Cas end up with you guys for lunch?” she asked, and Dean shifted uncomfortably.

 

“I don’t think that’s my story to tell.”

 

Charlie grinned brightly. “Aww, look at you bein’ all gentleman like!”

 

Dean wrinkled his nose in mock offense. “I’m always a gentleman,” he said around a mouthful of turkey sub.

 

That made them both laugh, and nearly made Jo choke on her sandwich. It was enough to lighten the mood the slightest bit, and though they were all worried about their progress, they all came back from lunch feeling a little bit better about the challenge. At least, Dean felt better.

 

It seemed to be enough of a boost to get him through making the basic waistband again, and by the time Jessica showed up, he actually had a base top and the waistband to try on her, even if nothing was sewn together or hooked up yet.

 

“Partner challenge, huh?” she asked, eyeing Balthazar as she stripped down. He just gave her a smirk.

 

“Your model has that spark, Dean. I like her,” he said, and Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“She’s right there, you can talk to her, you know.”

 

Needless to say, Dean could tell that Jessica wasn’t sure about working with Balthazar. Luckily, the skirt was pretty much on target, so Balthazar only took a moment before Dean was pinning the bodice around her to mark seam allowances. The models were all less talkative than usual- probably because some of them got stuck into the middle of awkward, tense situations. Castiel’s model, Emi, seemed to be taking great pleasure in treating Ruby with the same distaste that Castiel did- and it was only a bonus that Ruby was severely off in her measurements, and was cursing up a storm trying to pin adjustments in before the models had to leave.

 

Dean tried to stay focused. It was more difficult with each hour that passed, with Jo and Charlie starting to really question their work, plus Ruby and Castiel trading verbal jabs back and forth, but somehow, he managed to pull it together; by the time he took a quick ten minute dinner break he’d attached the waistband, and by the end of the night, he’d gotten most of the hem work done.

 

It was still going to be close. When they had to stop working at eleven that night, they still needed to attach the bodice to the skirt, and given that there would be no time to install a zipper, Dean was going to have to sew Jessica into the dress. He’d done it before, but it never felt good to be in that big of a rush.

 

Needless to say, there weren’t any heart to hearts that night, or even friendly chats. Everyone was stressed out, exhausted, and band aids were getting handed out like candy to cover blisters and needle jabs that happened out of sheer tiredness.

 

He didn’t have any trouble falling asleep tonight; in fact, he was pretty sure he was asleep before he even hit the bed.

 

*~~~~~~*

 

The next morning was the most hectic they’d had yet.

 

Dean was finishing a hem by hand, at the same time Balthazar was working at the waist seam. Jo and Charlie seemed to be adding some blue shaped piping to the front of their garment- maybe they were trying to go full on avant garde to save it. He didn’t have time to ask.

 

When Jessica came in, Balthazar spun her right back around and led her to hair and makeup; Dean had wanted to go with her, but he was almost done with the hem, and handing over the work to Balthazar would cost time. So he gave her an apologetic look as she followed Balthazar out, and then continued pushing his sore, aching fingertips to their limits.

 

He was going to have calluses in some really weird places by the time this was all over.

 

Jessica came back into the room right as Dean tied off the hem- and at the very same time Tim walked in and gave them their ten minute warning. There was absolutely no way they were getting this done, but it wasn’t like he could throw his hands in the air and give up; he and Balthazar got Jessica into the dress, and even as Balthazar was pinning the back into position, Dean was hand sewing a line up the back, following the pins and taking them out as he went.

 

“I am so glad you have a nice set of boobs on you, because some of these girls would have nothing to fill this out right,” Balthazar said, earning a smack from Jessica- and Dean swatted her arm in return and told her to hold still. He would smack Balthazar later, when they weren’t working in a downright panic.

 

But evidently, some kind of deity was on their side today- because just as Tim walked in and told them it was time to go to the runway, Dean was clipping the last threads from the seam up the back of the dress. He really wasn’t sure how they’d managed it, but they did.

 

After a couple more loose threads cut, they sent Jessica on her way with the other models, and Tim led the designers down to the runway. Dean pretty much collapsed into his chair next to Castiel’s, and then he took advantage of the brief moment Meg and Ruby were lagging behind, before the PAs could put them on ice.

 

“How do you think you did?” he asked, and Castiel snorted.

 

“If we’re not both in the bottom three, then these judges are blind,” he replied, and Dean winced- but before he could reply, a PA gave him a death glare, because he knew they weren’t supposed to be talking. Oh well.

 

He hated not being able to talk while they waited. He knew it was a psychological thing, that the producers wanted them to sit there and worry and think about everything they’d possibly done wrong- but even knowing that, it still sucked.

 

It was even worse today, because they had to change all the lighting to accommodate the special fabric. So they got to sit there and wait for what felt like hours while lights were moved, microphones hooked up, and backdrops changed.

 

But finally, the judges filed into the room. Crowley and Naomi were joined by a gorgeous redhead, her hair piled on top of her head in an updo, and her clothes all leather and denim. Dean may have liked her better if she didn’t also look like she probably ate flambéed kittens for breakfast.

 

“Well, designers, I hope you liked the reward we brought you,” Gabriel said, stepping out from behind the white screen at the back of the runway with his usual flair. “Really had to twist their arms to get them out here, you know?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, and he imagined he wasn’t alone in his reaction, because Gabriel laughed.

 

“Well, right down to business then. Designers, this week we asked you to work in pairs to create a garment out of luminous fabric, made with fiber optics. Allow me to introduce our esteemed judges for this week,” he said, stepping out of the way so the designers could see the judges. “First, we have Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency. Next, we have Miss Naomi Prevot, editor in chief of Eve Magazine. And last but far from least, we have a designer so good at what she does, she only needs one name: Abaddon, of Hell’s Favored Designs. And of course, I’ll be judging you as well.”

 

Well. No wonder she looked like she ate kittens for breakfast. Dean had heard of her, and also heard horror stories from the people who had to work with her when she didn’t get her way. Gabriel stepped up again, grinning at the designers brightly.

 

“And just to remind you all what’s at stake, let’s go over our prizes for this season,” he said. “The designer who wins this season will receive $100,000 to start their own line, as well as a year of representation through Top Designer Management Agency. That designer will also get a feature spread in Eve Magazine, and a sewing and design technology suite worth $50,000, courtesy of Allen Sewing. And of course, our bonus prize for this year; a trip for two to explore Paris for two weeks, and attend the world famous Paris Fashion Week.”

 

Dean had almost forgotten the huge amount that was at stake here. Sure, getting this far would get a good amount of publicity no matter what- but the person who won this would be catapulted into the upper echelon of designers fast enough to make their head spin.

 

It was almost too strange, too unreal to imagine.

 

“And as a nice reminder- Castiel, since you won last week, you have immunity this week and are safe from elimination,” Gabriel said, and Dean could have sworn he heard Ruby mumble something behind him, but he couldn’t make it out. “And with that said, it’s time to get on with the show! Hit the lights!”

 

Gabriel hopped off the runway, and as he dropped down in his seat, the lights dimmed to nearly full darkness- there was only a subtle light shining down the runway, leaving the clothes to glow at their best.

 

The first dress to turn the corner was the one Castiel and Ruby made. And Tim was right- it really looked like two different dresses slapped together. It also was heavily reminiscent of Ruby’s wedding dress from the waist down, the sleek blue color giving way to a couple rows of white ruffles just below the knee that draped down to the floor in the back. The bodice was white, comprised of vertical white ruffles fanning outward from the center seam, sleeveless and fitted at the waist.

 

Dean was suddenly glad Castiel had won last week, because their garment was…weak, at best. He could see construction issues from here. Without that immunity, he would have been a hell of a lot more worried, because Ruby sure as hell wouldn’t hesitate to throw him right under the bus.

 

Of course, the next dress made their dress look great- because Charlie and Jo had kind of made a monstrosity. It was a really cool concept, and Dean saw where they were trying to go with it- the dark colors at the top of the strapless dress, forming a rainbow gradient down to the lighter colors where the dress ended right above the knee. Unfortunately, the top of the dress ended up being too dark, making the whole garment seem bottom heavy in a bad way. They’d tried to compensate by piping designs in blue diagonally across the front of the bodice, but it only seemed to have made things worse; he could see Jo cringe as their model posed at the end of the runway, and then walked back.

 

It didn’t help that the dress right after theirs was Meg and Kevin’s garment. They seem to have taken the same concept as Ruby and Castiel, but then did it right- there was a large white lined dark ruffle lining the plunged neck all the way around, standing up in an almost Elizabethan way, and a dark sleeveless top that gave way to bright blue diagonal ruffles all the way down to the floor. Dean had seen Kevin working on those ruffles, yet he still could hardly believe the kid had gotten them all done. Then again, Meg was a really fast sewer, and Kevin was a fast learner- the two of them combined, in hindsight, was a formidable team.

 

Dean and Balthazar’s dress was last. It wasn’t as dramatic as some of the others, but it was striking, and Jessica wore it well. The bodice had come out nicely, a plunge neck with a thin strap up and around the neck, the dark belt showing up as a crimson color, the red barely bleeding through. Balthazar had done a great job on the tiered red skirt, the lowest tier hitting just above the knee.

 

As soon as Jessica turned the corner behind the screen, the lights slowly came up. Now came the worst part, when the designers had to sit there on ice while the judges discussed the designs and took notes; Dean tried not to watch them, but there wasn’t much else going on that he could focus on.

 

When they were finally called up to the runway, Dean sighed with relief and gratefully took the steps up and followed the PA’s direction to stand next to Balthazar. Castiel was to Dean’s right, Ruby on his other side; they both looked like they were standing in front of a firing squad. Castiel stood with his hands clasped behind his back, head tilted down slightly.

 

“We’d like to talk to all of you about your garments today,” Gabriel said with a grin, which made sense- now there would be a top two, and a bottom two, it seemed. But instead of saying which was which, the judges went right on to the critiques, turning their gazes on Dean and Balthazar first once the models had come on stage and taken their place between their two designers.

 

“So, how did the teamwork go?” Gabriel asked, and Dean glanced at Balthazar before speaking.

 

“It…went really well, actually. Nice to work with someone who has a level head,” he said, the words obviously a jab at the less calm designers among them.

 

“It’s very well made. Especially the tiers on the skirt. Who made the skirt?” Naomi asked.

 

“That was all Balthazar. He can have all the credit for that,” Dean explained, gesturing to the dress. “I just concentrated on the bodice.”

 

Crowley nodded. “It’s well done overall. It’s nothing new or very exciting, but considering the difficulty of the material, you did well. I just wish you’d taken a bigger risk.”

 

“It looks like a Spanish Flamenco dress, I’m afraid,” Abaddon spoke up, her voice like a purr. “I would advise you to try and think out side the box a little next time. But it is nicely constructed.”

 

Dean wasn’t going to argue with them; he and Balthazar hadn’t taken a risk, they were right. And it did kind of look like a Flamenco dress, now that he thought about it. He couldn’t unsee it, now.

 

The judges moved on, shifting their notecards as Gabriel smirked at Castiel and Ruby. “You two didn’t have a great time at this, did you?” he asked, and neither designer replied, not at first.

 

“It’s like a Frankenstein dress. It’s as if you two made pieces of different dresses, and just sewed them together at the last minute,” Crowley pointed out, and Ruby scoffed.

 

“We had a more cohesive plan, but Castiel here thought he was too good to follow it,” she snapped, and Castiel tensed, lifting his chin.

 

“ _You_ had a plan, and you were unwilling to deviate from it in the least. And I wasn’t about to be a seamstress for you,” he said, and Abaddon laughed.

 

“This is what happens when two strong willed designers get stuck on the same project. I’ve seen it happen before. The difference being that truly professional designers work past the petty squabbles and make things work,” she said, and Castiel winced. Dean bit the inside of his cheek, trying desperately not to come right out and tell them how much of a bitch Ruby was; it wouldn’t help Castiel’s case in the least.

 

“I’m disappointed in both of you. Especially you, Castiel,” Naomi said. “Not once have you showed us anything this sloppy or disharmonious. And Ruby, not only is this a far cry from an acceptable garment, but we’ve seen this dress before from you. Your design portfolio is not meant to be a recycle bin.“

 

Neither designer tried to defend the design any more; Castiel nodded and dropped his gaze back down to the floor, his whole body tense as Gabriel shifted in his seat to face Meg and Kevin.

 

“Now this is a design done right. This is fantastic, I gotta say,” he said, earning a grin from Kevin and a smug smirk from Meg. “How did this partnership work out?”

 

“He’s lucky he’s a fast learner,” Meg said teasingly, and Kevin shrugged.

 

“We had our moments, but we made it work. Meg knows her stuff. This was really her concept, even if we split the work down the middle,” he said.

 

“I don’t know how you got that much done in the time you had available. It’s remarkable,” Naomi pointed out, and Crowley nodded in agreement.

 

“Wonderful construction. And you picked your colors well,” he said.

 

“I appreciate how you didn’t let the design get overwhelmed or unbalanced from the color or the design. This took a delicate touch to get right,” Abaddon said, crossing her legs and leaning on one arm of her chair.

 

Of course, Dean knew that as they moved their attention to Charlie and Jo, the critique wasn’t about to get better. And Gabriel definitely started off with a discouraging tone.

 

“Girls, girls, girls…I’ve just got one question. Just…why?” he asked, and Charlie steeled herself, keeping her chin up.

 

“We wanted to be fantastical with it, since the fabric is so whimsical,” she said, and Abaddon laughed.

 

“This isn’t whimsical. This is right out of the backdrop of a Dr. Seuss book, and not in a fun way,” she said.

 

“It really was…decent, if a bit over the top, just as a base dress,” Crowley said, gesturing with his pen. “But adding the piping on the front was simply far too much.”

 

“Whose design was this?” Naomi asked, raising an eyebrow; Jo and Charlie shot a look at each other before Jo spoke up.

 

“It was pretty much equal. We both worked on the design of it, and we both did an equal amount of work,” she said, and Dean wasn’t sure if that was true or not. Even if one of them had been the spearhead on the design, admitting it would be as good as getting that person kicked out the door. If they said it was equal, neither of them was getting thrown to the wolves by the other- not many designers would do that courtesy, and he knew it. He felt a pang of sadness deep in his chest as he watched the two of them; he didn’t want either of them to go home. Not at all.

 

“Well, we’ve heard quite enough. We’re going to deliberate, and we’ll call you back when we’ve made our decision,” Gabriel said, dismissing them to the room where they would be waiting. Probably waiting a long time.

 

At least there was good food today; giant gourmet cheeseburgers. Castiel dropped down onto the couch, rubbing his temples, and Dean grabbed two sodas and two cheeseburgers, well aware from their last dinner out that Castiel could inhale cheeseburgers at an unbelievable rate. He sat down next to Castiel, holding out the wrapped burger and the extra drink.

 

“Here. Eat something, you’ll feel better,” he insisted, and Castiel took a deep breath before taking the burger and drink from Dean’s hands.

 

“They said it was sloppy,” Castiel muttered, unwrapping half the burger and just staring at it. “I don’t do sloppy work. I never send things down the runway sloppy.”

 

“Everyone has their days, Cas. This one just ain’t yours. Just think of it as a fluke. Next challenge you’ll be back in rare form, you’ll see,” Dean insisted around a mouthful of burger. “Besides, you have immunity. At least you know you’re not going home.”

 

“Yeah, he probably saw it as a way to half ass his work and sabotage me to get me sent home,” Ruby snapped from where she stood by the table, and Castiel didn’t even have time to get offended before Charlie was on her.

 

“What did you just say to him?” she said, her voice a far cry from her usual happy tone.

 

“I said he probably fuckin’ sabotaged me,” Ruby repeated, and Dean was glad he’d just put down his food, because he barely made it to the pair in time to grab Charlie’s arm and haul her back before she did something she’d regret.

 

Not that she’d regret hitting Ruby; just that she’d probably regret getting kicked off the show for doing so.

 

“Knock it off, Ruby. Stop being such a five year old,” Dean said, giving her a glare. “He doesn’t need to sabotage you, and he knows it. You do it plenty well yourself.”

 

He paid no attention to the venomous look she was giving them, instead pulling Charlie back to sit next to him on the couch, joined right after by Jo and Kevin as well. Castiel still sat staring at his uneaten food, shoulders slumped and his brow furrowed with a frown.

 

Dean at least convinced him to eat something while they waited.  Compared to previous weeks, it wasn’t a very long wait; it was only a few hours of awkward, tense silence and stupid boredom games before a PA was calling them back out to the runway, where they all took their previous positions.

 

“This week was a tough one on you guys,” Gabriel said. “And for us, too. But…we’ve made our decision, and that means one of you is going home today.”

 

Dean shifted his weight nervously, despite being pretty damn certain that he was safe. Gabriel flipped to a new notecard, then looked up with a smirk.

 

“Kevin…you’re in,” he said, and Kevin sagged with relief and grinned. “And now, for the winner of this week’s challenge…Meg!”

 

The designers clapped half-heartedly, and Meg smiled sweetly, thanking the judges; Dean had to admit, she was a damn good actress when she wanted to be. Gabriel moved on, focusing his attention on the remaining designers.

 

“Balthazar, Dean…you’re both in. Nice job on the construction there, it saved you both,” he said. “And our last safe designer is…Charlie.”

 

Well, that was at least some relief; Charlie was in, and Castiel may be in the bottom three, but he had immunity.

 

That meant Jo and Ruby were the bottom two.

 

 

“Castiel, my friend…you picked a good week to have immunity, because this was not your best week, by far. But for now, you’re in,” Gabriel said, and Castiel swallowed hard and nodded, the relief barely a flicker on his face; Dean knew he was probably still beating himself up over that critique, and probably angry about Ruby’s words earlier.

 

“Jo…you’ve been slipping up lately. Last week was lackluster, and this week, we’re just not sure what to make of your work,” Gabriel said, and then he looked to Ruby. “Ruby, your garment was sloppy, and we’d seen it before from you. On top of that, the judges are never happy when the very first words out of a designer are essentially throwing their partner under the bus. Both you and Castiel performed poorly in this challenge, which was meant to showcase your ability to work as a team.”

 

Now, the long pause. Silence fell over the room as Gabriel gave the cameras plenty of editing time, leaving the designers anxious and squirming until he finally spoke again.

 

“Jo…you’re out. That means Ruby, you are safe this week,” he said, and Dean felt it like a kick to the gut. It should have been Ruby; he didn’t want Jo to leave. He didn’t want to lose another friend here.

 

Jo shook hands with each of the judges before all the designers headed backstage. The first thing Dean did was pull Jo into a tight hug, his throat burning as he fought back the urge to cry, because seriously- cameras, right there.

 

“One of you fuckers have to win this for me, you get that?” Jo said, brushing away tears as she pulled a surprised Castiel into a hug; honestly, it seemed like Castiel was surprised when anyone hugged him. It was a depressing thought that he just must not be used to getting hugged.

 

Tim came in the room and immediately pulled Jo into yet another hug, and Dean could tell he actually was upset that she was going; after all, they’d all been getting to know Tim better, and he was becoming a friend as well as a mentor to all of them.

 

“I’m sorry, Jo. I have to ask you to go upstairs and clean up your space,” he said, holding her gently by the shoulders. “We’re really going to miss you.”

 

“Yeah, you too,” Jo said, sniffling as she said her goodbyes and then headed through the door. Dean took a deep breath, trying to remind himself that he would be seeing her again; plus, she lived pretty close to him. They could visit sometime, even after he got home.

 

They didn’t get any more chances to chat before a PA told them to go on ice. One by one they were called back to do their confessionals, starting with Meg, then Charlie. Dean was called in right after her, and he pulled Charlie into a hug as he passed her; she’d obviously been crying. Being on ice didn’t mean he couldn’t hug her.

 

The confessional started out with the usual questions, asking him to recall his thoughts during the process of the challenge, the producer getting on him when he slipped out of present tense. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he’d had his doubts about being partnered with Balthazar- because really, the guy ended up being not that bad. A little sleazy, but hey, everyone had their flaws. His happened to be a good dose of arrogance and an obsession with V-necked t-shirts.

 

Of course, they got to the drama as quickly as they could, because obviously they wanted that stuff on air as much as the actual progress of the show.

 

“So, you think Ruby should have gone home instead of Jo?”” the producer asked, and Dean laughed.

 

“I think I’m a little biased, but yeah. It should’ve been Jo staying,” he said with a shrug.

 

“And how do you feel about Castiel opening up to you last night? He told you a lot of private things.”

 

Dean gave the producer a glare at that; it figures that the cameraman probably already recapped that for all the producers. Hell, they’d probably already watched it and added some depressing music as a backdrop. The thought made Dean tense with anger, and he shook his head.

 

“Yeah, private things. As in, things I’m not going to recap with you for a damn confessional. You guys are vultures sometimes.”

 

“Just seems like you guys are getting awfully close.”

 

“We’re stuck in the same room for weeks on end, of course we’re close.”

 

“You didn’t take Kevin out to lunch with your mom and brother.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, really? You guys are shameless. I want another burger. Can I go?”

 

The producer reluctantly gave him permission to leave, and on the way out, he passed Castiel and gave him a supportive smile and a pat on the shoulder. And for a moment, for the first time that day, he saw a flicker of a smile on Castiel’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to reference pics (garment reference only, makeup and model not applicable):
> 
> [Balthazar and Dean](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Luminous/DeanBalthazar_zps4a6f9c38.jpg)
> 
> [Jo and Charlie](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Luminous/CharlieJo_zps472aa853.jpeg)
> 
> [Meg and Kevin](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Luminous/MegKevin_zps4d3369e9.jpg)
> 
> [Ruby and Castiel](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v631/DakotaJones/PP%20Destiel/Luminous/CastielRuby_zps1e7b582d.jpg)


	7. Man's Worst Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's worst nightmare comes true. Everyone else is thrilled about it, but they're obviously crazy. Meanwhile, Castiel struggles with a new drama that risks both his and Dean's position in the competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was seriously 40 pages in 12 point font in Word. I don't know how I'm gaining pages as I lose designers. Seriously, this is a monster. <3 Thanks for all reviews and likes!

Within minutes after waking up, Dean knew that something was wrong.

 

When he finished getting dressed and went to the kitchen, Balthazar was stabbing at the buttons on the coffee machine, cursing under his breath as it failed to produce their daily ambrosia. Dean stopped and glanced around curiously at the empty chairs, still half asleep; it took a second for him to realize what was missing from the picture.

 

“Where’s Cas?”

 

Balthazar snorted. “If the past four hours are any indication, he’s still doing a great impression of a sorority girl that had one too many at a party,” he said, and Dean frowned for a few seconds before it clicked.

 

“…he’s sick?”

 

“Well, he certainly didn’t find some secret stash of tequila in this god forsaken place,” Balthazar said, rolling his eyes. “Go on, go check on your boyfriend. You’ll feel much better.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean muttered even as he brushed by the Brit, heading for the other bedroom. The light wasn’t on in the small room, but he could see Castiel sitting at the end of the bed, his head in his hands and his hair more unruly than usual. He was in his normal slacks and button up shirt, but they obviously hadn’t been ironed like every other day- they were a little wrinkled, just thrown on, and the shirt wasn’t buttoned all the way up.

 

“Cas…you okay?” he asked, and when Castiel lifted his head, Dean resisted the urge to wince. The guy looked awful.

 

“I’m fine. Just…fighting something off,” Castiel insisted, his voice rough. Well, rougher than usual. Dean gave him a skeptical look, and reached out to press his hand against the other man’s forehead.

 

“You’re burning up,” he said, his frown getting deeper as Castiel pulled away and got to his feet. “We should get one of the producers-“

 

“No,” Castiel said, cutting Dean off before he could finish his thought. “No, I’m fine. Really. They’re not going to put anything on hold because I’m under the weather.”

 

Dean wanted to argue, but as much as he hated to admit it, Castiel was right. These reality shows didn’t halt the competition for anything, come hell or high water- no, they’d probably be ecstatic about the extra drama that came along with someone having a huge disadvantage. Hell, he remembered one season where a girl had an allergic reaction to something and got taken to the hospital, and even though she missed eight hours of work time, they didn’t give her any extra help or an extension.

 

“Hey, you guys coming?” Kevin called out from the main room. Dean glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and cursed; they needed to get going, or they would be late.

 

“Yeah, we’re coming,” Dean called out to Kevin, and then he grabbed Castiel with a gentle grip by the arm to make sure he stayed on his feet as he stood up. “You let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m serious,” he added, and Castiel managed a tired smile.

 

“I’ll be alright,” he insisted again, and he headed for the door as soon as Dean let go of his arm. Dean followed him out and they met Balthazar and Kevin by the door and made their way downstairs with them, Castiel all the while dismissing Kevin’s worries. They were the last to arrive in the uncomfortably quiet lobby, where Charlie stood aside from Ruby and Meg. The redhead visibly brightened when she saw them, though her expression quickly turned to worry when she focused on Castiel.

 

“Wow. You, uh…look like death warmed over,” she pointed out with a nervous laugh, and Castiel looked like he was about to protest when Tim came in the door, followed closely by a third cameraman. The cameraman at their apartment had seemed almost gleeful to follow the ‘drama’ this morning, even though Dean wanted nothing more than to shove the thing away and give Castiel a break.

 

“Good morning, designers. We’re starting the day with a field trip to one of the most famous landmarks in New York City,” Tim said as he clapped his hands together with a smile, one that quickly faded when he saw Castiel. “Castiel, are you alright?”

 

Castiel nodded stubbornly, though he wasn’t convincing anyone. “I’m fine,” he said for what was probably the tenth time that morning, but even as the PAs herded Dean and the others out the doors, another PA and Tim cornered Castiel to talk to him.

 

It was a tense minute in the van before Castiel finally joined them, sat down in the van, and pulled the door shut behind him.

 

“Everything okay there?” Charlie asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant, and Castiel shrugged.

 

“Yeah, they’re just being paranoid.”

 

Dean didn’t believe that for a second. Castiel looked pale and disheveled, dark circles under his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. Dean knew sick when he saw it- he’d helped his mom through Sam’s ‘year of catching everything under the sun’, thank you very much- and Castiel was definitely sick.

 

Nothing to be done about it now, though. The vans pulled away from the curb, turning to head deeper into downtown. When Dean heard ‘famous landmark’ and ‘New York City’, he was afraid that he’d be designing a new robe for the Statue of Liberty or something, but he was pretty sure they were going the wrong direction for that.

 

“Cas, can you tell where we’re going?” Kevin asked as he craned his neck to try and see the tops of the skyscrapers out the tinted windows. Castiel looked up at the buildings for a few moments, then shrugged halfheartedly.

 

“I would imagine we’re going somewhere in New York City.”

 

Charlie snorted. “Smart ass.”

 

At least Castiel hadn’t lost his strange sense of humor, despite the circumstances. Dean even saw a hint of a smile on his face as Kevin smacked his arm.

 

He sure had come a long way from not being able to comfortably talk with any of them.

 

It wasn’t a long ride; it probably would have been ridiculously short were it not for the early morning traffic. When Dean stepped out into the humid summer air, a grin lit up his face at the massive structure in front of them.

 

“Madison Square Garden?” Ruby said with a sneer, and Balthazar laughed.

 

“Oh, how I would love to see you ladies designing basketball jerseys.”

 

“Now, now. Don’t indulge yourselves in guessing, because I guarantee you will get it wrong,” Tim said, gesturing at the stadium. “Madison Square Garden has been home to some of the most famous sporting events and concerts over the years. It’s been featured in movies, and only the most prestigious of athletes and celebrities are allowed to step onto the floor. Today, you’re going to meet some of the more…offbeat athletes that make their debut here to compete for a world renowned honor. So, follow me!”

 

“Offbeat athletes?” Kevin repeated as they followed Tim to the building and through a set of doors. “I feel like that’s code for something.”

 

“Harlem Globetrotters?” Charlie said with a shrug, and Dean thought she could be right about that. How much more ‘offbeat’ could an athlete get than that?

 

“Is that some kind of sports team?” Castiel asked, and every pair of eyes nearby turned on him in surprise. Charlie laughed.

 

“Seriously, Cas? You don’t know who the Harlem Globetrotters are?”

 

“Am I supposed to?”

 

Dean groaned, but he would have to explain later- Tim led the way down a ramp and through a tunnel, and the group emerged onto the floor of the stadium, which was currently covered in a bright green carpet. It was like a lawn with a buzz cut, really. There were no markings on it, no lines to mark soccer goals or football yard lines, and the seats seemed to go on forever. The place looked massive from ground level, especially when it was so…empty.

 

“Line up right over here,” a PA said, and pointed at a spot almost center ‘field’, faced toward the rows and rows of seats. Once they were all lined up, Dean stole a glance at Castiel, who seemed to be holding up despite looking like death warmed over.

 

“The performers you’re meeting today are the best in the world at what they do. They train all year for the moment they step into this stadium, and when it’s their time to shine, they only get one shot,” Tim explained, and Dean could tell everyone else was just as confused as he was. This…didn’t sound like any sport Dean could think of.

 

“Earlier this year, millions of viewers tuned in live to watch these athletes in their once a year extravaganza. And today, you get to meet a few of those same athletes, up close and personal. Are you ready?” Tim continued, and Dean tried to look excited instead of just plain confused as he nodded. Charlie was smiling brightly and bouncing on her toes next to him, obviously enthralled by all the buildup. Then again, she was easily amused by just about anything.

 

“Alright then. Ladies, we’re ready for you!” Tim called out to the nearest tunnel, and out came…a dog. A massive black poodle on the end of a leash, hair cut in that ridiculous poodle cut that Dean had only seen on TV, its gait smooth as it jogged beside its handler out of the tunnel. And then, six more dogs and handlers followed, each one a different breed, some more ridiculous looking than others.

 

Dean’s stomach was somewhere in his feet. Of all challenges he could have blacklisted, a freaking dog challenge would have been at the top of the list. Charlie and Kevin were practically bubbling over with excitement, and even Castiel managed a smile at the fur parade, but all Dean could feel was dread.

 

“Designers, meet your clients for this challenge. Each one of the dogs before you won best in their breed at the world famous Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show this year, and Tallulah here placed third in the overall best in show group,” Tim explained, gesturing toward the black poodle at the front of the line. The dogs were the very picture of show dogs, standing unnaturally still, eyes focused on their handlers with an almost disturbing intensity.

 

This close up, Dean could see that some of the trainers were actually holding dog treats between their teeth to keep the dog’s attention on their face.

 

 

“Best challenge ever!” Charlie said, already scanning the line of dogs, probably deciding which one she wanted to tackle. Tim laughed and shook his head.

 

“I’m glad you’re excited,” he said before getting down to business. “You’ll have until midnight tonight to finish a sophisticated garment for your canine, and a budget of 120 dollars. And the winner this week will be getting immunity for next week’s challenge, as well as a pair of tickets for front row seats at next year’s Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.”

 

For once, Dean didn’t want to win. One dog was enough, seven was way too many, and he would paint his Impala purple before he willingly walked into a stadium full of thousands of furry, slobbering mutts.

 

“This week, there is no black bag. And you don’t get to pick your client. Instead, the client will be picking you,” Tim said, and Meg scoffed.

 

“You’re letting the dogs pick?”

 

“Yes. Each dog will be let off leash and will be allowed to go to whichever designer it wants to. And you’re not allowed to attempt to sway them, either,” Tim added, giving Charlie a look. She pouted in response.

 

Dean had the feeling none of these dogs would be going anywhere near him. They had to feel the anti-dog vibes, right? Dogs could tell what people were feeling, he was sure he’d read it somewhere. A dog would have to be stupid to run right to a human that hated it.

 

“Well then, let’s get started!” Tim said, and he backed out of the way so he was no longer between the line of dogs and the line of designers. “Our first client is Pookie, an Australian Terrier.”

 

The handler that stepped forward was a chubby woman with an almost motherly look to her, at odds with the scrappy looking brown dog at the end of the leash. It looked like a yappy dog. It was nearly vibrating with energy as the woman reached down and unclipped the leash, and after one lap around her feet, the thing was off like a rocket.

 

A rocket on a collision course with Dean’s feet.

 

“Aw, look, he likes you!” Charlie said with unrestrained joy as the dog hopped on its back feet, looking up at Dean with bright eyes and ears perked. Dean just stared at it, a bit stupefied- was the dog just really stupid? Did it gravitate toward negative thoughts?

 

“Dean, I’m going to guess that you don’t like dogs,” Tim said, and Dean realized that nearly everyone was trying not to laugh at him- the look on his face must have been a pretty clear indicator of how he felt about this. He cleared his throat and tried to collect himself- he was a designer, for Christ’s sake, and this was a job- and he shrugged.

 

“They’re, uh…not my first choice of pet,” he said as the handler picked ‘Pookie’ up and promptly deposited him right in Dean’s arms, where the dog seemed perfectly happy to stay and sniff at every inch of Dean that its nose could reach.

 

It smelled like a dog. Dean was never going to get the dog smell out of this shirt, he was sure of it.

 

The PA directed him to stand off to the side with his new ‘client’, and Tim moved on to the next dog, one that Dean thought looked like a Pug with pointed ears.

 

“Next, we have Sid, the French Bulldog,” Tim said as the leash was unclipped. The dog waddled away aimlessly for a moment, sniffing along the floor before it finally seemed to realize it was truly free; it locked eyes with Charlie, and it was like watching one of those romantic beach scenes of reunited lovers. The tiny bulldog thing waddled as quickly as its stubby legs would carry it, making a beeline straight for Charlie. She didn’t need any encouragement; when Sid reached her, she scooped him up and immediately proceeded to cuddle him.

 

“I am gonna make you the coolest dog in the city,” she said as she moved to stand next to Dean, and Dean stifled a fond laugh; at least someone was having a good time with this. Dean was busy wondering what the hell kind of clothes he was going to make for a dog.

 

The third dog, a Bedlington Terrier named Jericho that looked more like a deformed sheep than a dog, meandered around a bit before finally making its way over to Balthazar. The huge black poodle, Tallulah, came next, and she seemed rather set on Castiel from the moment her leash came off.

 

It was kind of fitting, in a way. And while Castiel still looked like crap, at least his dog was calm and gentle, unlike the canine pogo stick Balthazar was dealing with.

 

The next dog, a white toy poodle named Yvonne, went up and down the line of designers three times before finally stopping at Ruby. The fifth dog was unmistakable- a tan Chihuahua named Mojo that took right to Kevin. The last designer standing was Meg, and at that moment, Dean suddenly regained his faith in the canine ability to smell evil. Nonetheless, the Boston Terrier named Kelly seemed to like Meg just fine, leaving all the designers with their new ‘clients’.

 

“Alright. I’m going to give you 20 minutes to sit down anywhere on this floor and sketch with your client for inspiration. And don’t forget to take their measurements while you have them; you can’t get away with just making a smaller version of human clothes. You have to account for every physiological difference,” Tim said as the PAs handed out sketchbooks, leashes, and measuring tape. Dean didn’t waste any time, and he fumbled to attach the leash and put Pookie right back on the floor, where he belonged. Time glanced at his watch. “Your time starts…now!”

 

Everyone else was off like a shot, while Dean stared down at his four-legged client with a sense of dread. “You’re going to be the death of me here, I know it,” he muttered to the dog, who was unfazed by his attitude, and happily followed him with his tail wagging like a metronome on high to an open patch of floor. Dean sat down and opened the sketchbook, and first stared at the blank page, then at the brown ball of fur he was supposed to be dressing.

 

“…Measurements, right,” he said, glad he remembered to do at least one thing right. He grabbed the measuring tape and got to work, and he thanked whatever deity was listening that at least his dog seemed to be semi well behaved as he got more measurements than he thought he would need.

 

It was like pulling teeth trying to force a design out of himself for this. He felt like trying to get inspiration for this was like trying to get water from a well that had never contained water. In fact, a well that only contained lava. He didn’t design for dogs. Dogs didn’t wear clothes, dammit. Dogs ruined clothes. Dogs shed on clothes. Dogs ate clothes and pooped them out. There was no way he could fit this thing for a leather jacket, as much as he would have liked to try.

 

By the time Tim told them it was time to go, Dean barely had a concept. It was nowhere near a finished sketch. He happily passed the dog off to its handler, relieved as they made their way out to the vans.

 

“How can you not like dogs? Dogs are awesome,” Kevin asked as he caught up with Dean. He ignored Ruby and Meg, who were trying to decide what fabric would hide any errant fur the best.

 

“They’re…dogs. I don’t know, man, they’re just messy, and…dogs,” Dean muttered, and Castiel huffed out a weak laugh.

 

“Yes, I believe we’ve established that they’re dogs. Though the poodles are not generally messy. They don’t shed much,” he pointed out, his voice still rough and weaker than usual. Dean snorted.

 

“But they do shed. And I’ll bet they drool.”

 

“Only as much as you do.”

 

“I do not _drool_.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

Dean very nearly pouted as he climbed into the van after Castiel. The ride to Swatches was blissfully short; Dean didn’t know how much more he could take of Charlie and Kevin gushing over the dogs. He was busy trying to think of what the hell he was going to do for the challenge.

 

He eventually decided on a little dog suit, complete with tie. Classic, and if he tailored it right, it would make up for not taking a risk on the challenge. His aim on this one wasn’t to win- he already knew he was just aiming to survive.

 

It was going to be a long day.

 

It seemed to be weighing even heavier on Castiel, though. Every step the man took seemed to be slower, less steady, and Dean wasn’t surprised to see that one of the producers was actually hovering nearby off camera. He wanted them to call the whole thing off for today, let Castiel bounce back from whatever this was, but he knew the chances of that were about the same as the chances of sleet in hell.

 

“You’ll have 25 minutes to shop, and 120 dollars to spend. Remember those measurements, because it may be easy to misjudge the amount of fabric you’ll need,” Tim pointed out as they lined up inside the store and took their money envelopes from a PA. As usual, the rat dog store mascot thing was waiting inside with yet another fancy scarf, ready to follow the designers around the store; Dean resented it even more right now than usual.

 

“Your time starts…now!”

 

It wasn’t a high stress shopping trip for Dean. It wasn’t hard to find the suiting material, and he got a good amount in black and in white for the pint sized suit, along with some decorative buttons and Velcro. He had the feeling dog clothes didn’t do actual real buttons. No one wanted to hold a dog still long enough to button its shirt, or so he assumed.

 

He was glad he finished early, though, because Castiel was really struggling. Dean wanted to cuss out the producer for standing behind the cameras and just _watching_ , but they were short on time, and Castiel looked lost, holding a bolt of thick, silvery, shimmery fabric, almost a wool type material.

 

“How many yards?” he asked, not hesitating to take the bolt from Castiel’s hands. Castiel blinked in surprise before he noticed the shopping bag already on Dean’s arm.

 

“Um…two yards. Yes, two,” he said, not sounding very sure. Two yards sounded right to Dean, though, and before Castiel could even thank him, he was off to get the fabric cut. It was lucky that he helped- because right as he got done getting the fabric cut and Castiel just finished up at the notions, Tim called time. Castiel stepped into the checkout line with an audible sigh of relief.

 

“Thank you, Dean,” he said softly, and Dean shrugged and smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

 

“No problem. I’m not lettin’ you get knocked out of this thing just because you caught some bug.”

 

Meg shot him a glare; evidently she wasn’t too happy about him aiding competitors. He didn’t care; frankly, she could just suck it. As far as Dean was concerned, it wouldn’t be fair for any of them to get kicked out for something that had so little to do with their ability to design.

 

That, and he was pretty damn worried about Castiel right now, and none of her rude looks or comments were going to change that.

 

But he couldn’t stay focused entirely on Castiel’s predicament; he still had to make a garment. For a dog. It was more foreign to him than any of the ‘add butterfly wings!’ or ‘more frills!’ that the girls ordering their prom dresses would throw at him; even the girl who wanted a ‘punk rock ballerina inspired gown’ felt easier to handle than this right now.

 

Nobody else seemed to be having any trouble; in fact, everyone seemed excited about the challenge. Meanwhile, Dean spent the first ten minutes in the workroom staring at a yard of white muslin and the dog-shaped mannequin that had been waiting for him on his table as he tried to picture a suit on the dog well enough to create a pattern.

 

It wasn’t going well.

 

Hell, Castiel was holding his own better than Dean at this point, and the guy was slumped over his workbench, trembling as he tried to chalk straight lines onto his fabric. Dean started to offer help, but that only got him one of those ‘leave me alone, I’m fine even though I’m obviously not’ looks that he wasn’t about to argue with when he had so much on his plate already.

 

He couldn’t put it off forever, though. He eventually set to work with the measurements and the muslin, marked out the rough lines, and cut the imperfect pattern pieces for a test run. The collar of the shirt ended up all wrong, and he was sure the tie was way too long and would drag the floor if he didn’t stitch it to the shirt in some way, but it was a start.

 

Behind him, Charlie hummed to herself as she worked with a tan coat fabric, though Dean wondered how wise it was to put tan on a tan dog. But she seemed really into it, and he knew he was the last person to have the right to question anyone on this challenge.

 

He’d just altered the pattern to a point where he felt comfortable transferring the pieces to the actual suiting fabric when Charlie grabbed his arm to literally drag him off to lunch; Castiel followed reluctantly when Charlie gave him a stern look, and Kevin wasn’t far behind, finishing off a ruffle before following.

 

A ruffle. Dean didn’t know what kind of ruffles the kid was planning to put on a Chihuahua, but he just hoped it wasn’t like the picture in his head.

 

He was sure that Castiel turned a little green when they got to the break room and the smell of spicy Indian food hit them. It seemed like something Castiel would normally be into, but instead he grabbed a bottle of water and darted to the couch without a second look at the food. Dean filled his plate, and then on a whim, he got a small bowl and filled it with plain white rice, bringing that to Castiel.

 

“Here. Try to nibble on this, you know how the PAs get when we don’t eat,” he joked, a cover for his own concern over Castiel not eating. Castiel looked reluctant, but he took the bowl anyway and seemed to manage a few bites as they talked.

 

“So what’s with the ruffles?” he asked Kevin, and Kevin swallowed down a giant bite of chicken tika masala before replying.

 

“I’m going kind of…Spanish with it. Like, conquistador type thing.”

 

Charlie raised her eyebrows. “Sounds kind of…costumey.”

 

“Says the girl turning a French Bulldog into Inspector Gadget.”

 

“He’s not Inspector Gadget! He’s just gonna have an awesome trenchcoat,” she protested before she glanced over at Castiel. “Cas, what are you planning?”

 

Castiel shrugged halfheartedly and stared down at his rice. “I…don’t have a solid picture yet. Still working on it.”

 

Dean snorted. “Well, you’re not alone there.”

 

Luckily, Dean managed to avoid talking about his sad excuse for a design idea, since Balthazar stuck his head into the break room. “Finish up, Yanks. Tim’s here to blow our hopes and dreams straight from the waters,” he said, and the four of them made quick work of finishing their food- or not finishing, in Castiel’s case- before they went back to the workroom, where Tim stood chatting with Ruby as he waited.

 

“Alright, I’m just going to walk around and see how everyone’s doing,” he said, and Dean felt his heart drop into his feet as Tim moved toward his work station. He was going first, evidently. Great.

 

“So, what have you got planned for Pookie?” Tim asked as he looked at the pattern pieces strewn across Dean’s table. Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

 

“I’m, uh…making a suit and tie.”

 

Tim fell silent for a few moments, as if waiting on Dean to continue with the rest of the idea- and when he realized that was all Dean had, he arched an eyebrow. “A suit? Is that it?”

 

Dean winced. “Yeah. That’s…that’s it right now.”

 

Tim frowned. Dean already knew what he was about to say, could see the concern in the lines on his face. “I’m…highly concerned. It’s almost cliché, and it’s not what I’d expect from you. Suits for dogs already exist, and are probably overdone.”

 

Well, like anyone could expect Dean to know that; he didn’t deal with dogs, much less the fashion trends associated with them. How would he know that making suits for dogs was some kind of big business? “Yeah, I know it’s not much. I just…” he started, then trailed off with a shrug. Tim sighed.

 

“You’re letting your personal feelings about your client get in the way of your own design. You’ve made it very obvious that you don’t like dogs, and it’s dragging you down here,” Tim said, his voice firm, almost scolding. “I expect more from you, Dean. I don’t want to end up with another Ramona here.”

 

Dean bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. Ramona was a designer last season, and she really was a great designer- but then the plus size challenge came, and it was like a totally different person in Ramona’s shoes. She whined endlessly about having to ‘make a fucking muumuu’, generally treated her client like crap the whole time, and her design ended up an unforgiveable mess. She’d gone from consistently in the top three to out of the competition in one challenge.

 

Tim was right. Dean was falling apart all because of a dog. He felt stupid now, and mortified.

 

“You’re right,” he said, though he was obviously loathe to admit it. “I’m…not doing good here. I just need to focus.”

 

Tim nodded. “I don’t know how well this can be salvaged, Dean, but I have faith in you. You’re an excellent designer. You can figure this out if you stick to it and just treat this like any other client with strange measurements.”

 

Dean nodded, and dropped down on the stool by his work station as Tim moved on to Castiel. Castiel paused in draping his own roughly cut pattern pieces over the poodle sized mannequin on his table, and he stepped back so Tim could look at his work and the sketch.

 

“I’m not sure what you’re going for here,” Tim said, and Castiel sat down on the stool by the table, obviously exhausted.

 

“It’s kind of a…form fitting coat. I’m shaping it to try and work with the shape of the fur pattern she has,” he explained, and Tim nodded before turning to him.

 

“As long as you’ve got a concept, I trust that you’ll make it work,” he said, his brow creased with worry. “But how are you doing? You still don’t look well, and the PAs said you haven’t taken any breaks other than to pretend to eat.”

 

“I’m alright, really,” Castiel said, though he still didn’t sound very convincing. “I’m taking it easy.”

 

Dean snorted. Yeah, taking it easy. Sure. Luckily Castiel and Tim didn’t hear him.

 

“If you need anything, you let one of the crew members know. I’m worried about you,” Tim said, and while some people might accuse him of just pretending for the cameras, Dean knew it was genuine concern. He’d been here long enough to know that Tim was no fake; he truly cared about all the designers, even if he sometimes had to be brutally honest with them.

 

He patted Castiel on the shoulder and moved on to Charlie’s table, where she was more than ready to show off her plan for a pint sized dog trench coat. Tim seemed just as confident in the design as she was, so it wasn’t long before he was moving on to Kevin’s work station, wincing at the sight of all the white ruffles.

 

“Kevin, what is all this flotsam and jetsam?” he asked with a laugh, and Kevin held out his sketch.

 

“I’m doing a kind of Spanish theme. You know, the ruffled collar and wrists, and the colored overcoat,” he explained, and Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

“You’re going to overwhelm this poor tiny dog,” he said. “It looks costumey.”

 

“It won’t be, I swear. It’s going to be tasteful.”

 

Tim didn’t look convinced, but he handed the sketch back. “Be careful with this. You’re walking a very fine line with this design, and right now it’s looking like it’s on the wrong side of that line,” he advised before he crossed the aisle to Meg’s station. Meg was working with a bright a purple fabric, and Dean could tell from here that it looked thick and soft.

 

“This is excellent fabric for the color of your dog,” Tim pointed out, feeling the edge of the fabric.

 

“I’m making a sweater and maybe a matching scarf. Something colorful and… _not_ cliché or overdone,” Meg said with a smirk, and Dean resisted the urge to chuck his dog mannequin at her head.

 

He hoped her dog peed on the sweater.

 

Unfortunately, Tim had no complaints about her design, though Ruby was a different story. She had a pile of red fabric on her table, including bright red tulle, and it only took Tim a moment to look at that pile and tell her that she could easily go way over the top with it. Nonetheless, she insisted she knew what she was doing with it, and Tim moved on to Balthazar.

 

He didn’t even wince anymore when walking up to Balthazar’s table, even though it would have been justified at the sight of the fabric he’d chosen. It was some kind of silver, shiny fabric with bright graphics all over it, like pages of a magazine superimposed over the silver in light blues and yellows and bold words.

 

 “Dare I ask?” he said, and Balthazar smiled and leaned back from the table.

 

“Ultra modern for a unique looking dog, of course.”

 

“Ultra modern, or gaudy?”

 

Balthazar laughed. “Don’t worry, it will be stunning, I promise you that,” he said, and Dean was tempted to point out that there were multiple definitions of ‘stunning’ and not all of them were a good thing, but he held his tongue. Tim just sighed and moved back to the middle of the room, then turned around.

 

“Designers, come gather round,” he said, and everyone shared a similar look of terror; gather-rounds in the middle of a challenge never meant good things. Ever. He stepped around his table to stand in front of Tim, and the cameras moved in close as the rest of the designers joined them.

 

“This wouldn’t be All Star Designer without the occasional twist,” Tim said, and there was a collective groan from the group- and Castiel, if possible, looked a little more pale.

 

“You’re going to be making a second look, this one for your model,” Tim said, and Dean kind of wanted to crawl away and cry before Tim could say more. “This look must be in theme with the one you’re already making for your dog. Your deadline is being extended until 11pm tomorrow, and we’ll be making a trip in a few moments back to Swatches, where you’ll have a budget of 175 dollars. For now, you have twenty minutes to sketch, starting…now.”

 

Dean was in no hurry to get back to his table. Hell, even with the time extension, this would be tough- he couldn’t whip together a matching women’s suit for Jessica in that amount of time, and he knew it. He wasn’t even close to done with the dog suit yet.

 

He dropped down and stared at his blank sketchbook, feeling worn down and almost…numb. This whole challenge had him off balance, feeling helpless and uninspired, and it could cost him the whole competition if he didn’t step it up. With no other ideas, he sketched out a black dress, sticking to a shapely, form-fitting silhouette to balance out what was destined to be an ill-fitting dog suit.

 

Luckily the trip to Swatches was a no-brainer for most; pretty much everyone was using the same fabric from their dog’s outfit, plus some notions. Dean was happy to see that they at least had a PA sticking close to Castiel to help him out, though Dean still worried that he didn’t look any better yet.

 

He probably wasn’t going to get better anytime soon, with all this stress on his shoulders.

 

Back at Brighton’s, Dean set to work on the dog suit and set aside the supplies for the second look for now. One thing at a time; he’d go crazy if he tried to work on both at once. He carefully draped the pattern pieces on the dog mannequin, then shifted them and pinned them together, occasionally stopping to measure and double check his seam allowances.

 

He thought he heard Castiel say his name, and he turned to look- and he dropped his container of pins to the table with a loud clatter. He knew that look; Castiel was still on his feet, but ridiculously pale, his eyes glassed over and distant. Dean had seen that look before, and it was a good thing he had, because he barely made it to Castiel in time to catch him as he crumpled to the floor in a dead faint. He stumbled but managed to lower Castiel to the floor slowly and carefully, all thoughts of his design problems gone.

 

“Cas!” Charlie shouted, nearly knocking over her own dress form as she ran around her table. Dean took a deep breath and made sure Castiel was still breathing as he tried to remember what little first aid he knew, and tried to shove down the panic.

 

“Charlie, drag that chair over here,” he said, about to tell the gathering designers and camera guys to clear out, but Kevin was already on it; he made sure Dean had plenty of room, and wasn’t getting crowded.

 

“I’ll get a PA,” Ruby said, rushing away, and Dean had a brief moment of fury as he realized that the camera guys were more focused on getting everything on camera than using the walkie-talkies hooked on their belts.

 

 

Charlie pulled the chair over, and Dean pulled off his jacket and bundled it up under Castiel’s head as a makeshift pillow before he lifted Castiel’s feet up onto the chair. He remembered that much- to get the blood flowing back in the direction of the brain when someone passed out.

 

Luckily, Castiel already seemed to be coming back around. Dean pressed a hand to his shoulder to keep him calm and keep him from trying to move as his eyes fluttered open; predictably, he looked confused.

 

“Dean…?”

 

“Hey, stay still, okay?” Dean said, only pausing for a moment to glance up as Ruby came back in with two PAs and a producer. The producer was on the phone already, probably calling for an ambulance- well, hopefully. Dean gave Castiel what he hoped was a reassuring look. “You passed out on us. You’re alright.”

 

“I’ve got an ambulance on the way,” the producer said, and Castiel blinked in surprise and then shook his head weakly.

 

“I don’t n-need an ambulance,” he said, but obviously no one was about to listen to him after he’d dropped like a puppet with cut strings. Dean just rolled his eyes and kept one hand pressed to Castiel’s shoulder just in case he decided to try and sit up. He wouldn’t put it past him to sit up and try to go right back to work.

 

“I had a feeling you were working yourself into a corner,” a familiar voice said, and Dean looked up to see Tim coming in the room, closely followed by another camera. Ruby, Meg, and Balthazar had already gone back to their work now that the situation seemed ‘handled’, but Tim joined Dean and knelt down by Castiel as Kevin and Charlie hovered with obvious concern.

 

“Yes, w-well…it wasn’t intentional, I assure you,” Castiel muttered, and Dean felt a surge of gratitude as Tim motioned for the cameras to move back and give them more space. Unlike with Dean, they actually had to listen to Tim.

 

“Intentional or not, we’re going to have you looked at, okay?” Tim said, his voice calm and comforting despite the circumstances.

 

It wasn’t a minute later that two decked out EMTs came in the room, and they didn’t fuck around in the least; they told the cameramen to get the hell back, and one moved to Castiel to start taking vitals while the other asked Dean all the expected questions- how long Castiel was unconscious, how much he’d been eating and drinking, covering all the basics.

 

“Well, looks like you’re definitely dehydrated,” the other EMT said as she finished taking his blood pressure. “Since you were already ill before that, I’d highly recommend you let us transport you over to the hospital for some IV fluids and observation.”

 

Castiel groaned and closed his eyes. “I can’t, I have to finish this-“ he started, but Tim gave him a look and cut him off.

 

“Castiel, please. I realize it’s bad timing, but all of us would feel a whole lot better if you go,” he said, and Dean nodded.

 

“It’s just one challenge. Hell, you’ll probably be back in a few hours and pull some kind of miracle out of your ass. You always do,” he pointed out, and Castiel took in a deep but shaky breath.

 

“…fine. Alright, just…I’m not staying all night,” he said, and the EMTs didn’t hesitate to go downstairs to get the stretcher. Which Castiel definitely wouldn’t be happy with, but he’d have to deal with it. He’d be more upset with what Dean had planned, anyway.

 

“I’m going with him,” Dean said to Tim, earning shocked looks from nearly all the designers- except for Charlie, who just snorted and rolled her eyes fondly. Tim’s frown deepened, one finger pressed to his lips with concern before he spoke.

 

“Dean, you’re already struggling greatly with this challenge. Losing a large chunk of work time could devastate your chances at salvaging this,” he said.

 

“You’re not going,” Castiel agreed, as firmly as he could, but Dean just smirked.

 

“I’ve done much stupider things with a lot more at stake. I’m going. I’ll deal with the challenge when I get back,” he said, the implication behind his words obvious- he wasn’t about to leave Castiel to deal with the hospital and the PAs and the overzealous cameramen by himself, and he didn’t care if he was basically throwing the challenge.

 

It wasn’t like they had time to argue; the EMTs were already back with the stretcher, and they ignored Castiel’s insistence that he was ‘completely capable of walking’ as they moved him onto it. “The last thing we need is for you to start walking around and drop like a rock again when the blood rushes out of your head, buddy,” one of them pointed out. Dean stood by and waited with Tim, and he heard Meg laugh behind him.

 

“I would call you an idiot for basically throwing the challenge for your boyfriend there, but I think we were all aware that you aren’t the brightest crayon in the box,” she said, and Dean shot her a glare.

 

“Shut the hell up, Meg,” Charlie snapped, standing at her station but not back to work yet. She seemed a bit shaken by the whole thing, and Dean gave her a grin.

 

“Don’t worry about us. You just finish your doggie flasher outfit,” he said, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

 

None of the PAs tried to talk him out of going as he followed the stretcher out, but they probably had ulterior motives; it would be more drama for two of their designers to lose a huge amount of time on the challenge. At this point, Dean didn’t care; while he was excellent at putting on a brave face, he was still worried. Not worried about this very moment, but more about later, when Castiel returned to Brighton’s- in fact, while Dean was mostly coming along as moral support, he also fully planned on listening to whatever treatment and advice the doctor had for Castiel and making sure Castiel actually followed through on it. He could just see Castiel getting back here and pushing himself too hard again, and promptly passing out again.

 

“Can I ride along?” he asked as he kept pace with the EMTs.

 

“Sure. Just one person though. And no cameras inside the emergency ward,” the woman said as she gave a sharp look to the cameraman following right on Dean’s heels. Dean almost laughed; boy, that would piss them off, not being able to record inside the hospital at all. The break was going to be amazing, though.

 

Dean climbed in the back once they got Castiel loaded in, and he sat down by the stretcher and just tried to stay out of the way as the EMT worked at getting an IV set up. Her partner closed the doors shut behind them before going to the front, leaving the cameras’ views blocked and Dean breathing a sigh of relief.

 

“I really don’t need that,” he heard Castiel say, turning to see the EMT strapping an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. She patted him on the arm.

 

“Sorry, but it’s protocol for this kind of thing. You only have to wear it till we get to the hospital. It’s not far,” she said, and luckily Castiel didn’t try to take it off or anything. Even Dean knew it was probably overkill, but this was one situation in which he would definitely say ‘better safe than sorry’.

 

“Hey, look at it this way; we get a few hours without being taped,” he pointed out to Castiel, who was obviously still beating himself up about all this. He winced as the EMT pulled a tourniquet on tight, and looked away as she got ready to put the IV in place.

 

“I think that’s the only upside to this situation,” he pointed out, still pale, but he definitely looked better than he’d looked just before he nearly hit the floor. If Dean had been a foot farther away, they may have been dealing with a nasty head injury; of course, Castiel didn’t even remember passing out, let alone Dean catching him.

 

“Have to look on the bright side somehow.”

 

Castiel flinched as the needle slid into his arm. “By the way, you are a complete idiot, I hope you know that,” he said, and Dean smiled and shrugged impishly.

 

“I’ve been called worse. Wasn’t about to let you fend for yourself. The challenge isn’t _that_ important.”

 

“You could be eliminated.”

 

“Could be. Wouldn’t regret it.”

 

Castiel sighed and shook his head with the hint of a smile on his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

Dean didn’t argue that. After all, it was probably true.

 

It wasn’t a long ride at all, especially not with the lights and sirens going, but somehow Dean wasn’t surprised to see that at least one cameraman and a PA had beaten them here. They were milking this for every moment, taping from the moment the stretcher was removed from the ambulance up until they went through the glass doors into the hospital and through the double doors into the emergency room, where they stood filming through the small windows on the doors until the stretcher was out of view.

 

“Damn vultures,” Dean muttered. He stayed back to let them get Castiel into a bed and hospital gown and settled before he stepped into the room to stay with him while he waited. If this ER was anything like the one back home, it would be a while before the doctor even got around to seeing Castiel.

 

The nurse came in long enough to make sure Castiel was set up on an IV and comfortable, and then she disappeared and pulled the curtain in the doorway shut, leaving the two of them alone for the first time in…well, since they met. They hadn’t been without a camera or another designer over their shoulders since the very first day, and yet, now that they were completely alone, Dean didn’t even know what to say.

 

So much for being a ‘charmer’, like some had called him. When it came right down to it, he could fumble the ball just as much as anyone else.

 

“You don’t have to stay. Really,” Castiel said, and he looked almost bashful as he spoke. “It’s not worth losing the challenge over.”

 

“Dude, fuck the challenge. Seriously,” Dean shot back as he dragged a chair over by the bed and dropped into it. “Making sure you’re okay is more important than any of these damn challenges. Especially this one.”

 

Castiel’s face colored with a blush, and he nearly laughed. “You’re just saying that because you hate dogs.”

 

“I don’t hate dogs. I just…dislike them. And I never thought I’d have to put clothes on one.”

 

“I like dogs,” Castiel said with a shrug as he stared down at where the IV was taped to his arm. “Always wanted one when I was a kid, but that was about as likely as an amusement park in the backyard.”

 

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, my brother always wanted one, but we just never had the money or the time. I’m sure the second he graduates he’ll start collecting a herd of them.”

 

“…Isn’t a group of dogs called a pack?”

 

“No, it’s called too many fucking dogs.”

 

Castiel laughed and shook his head. There was a little more color in his skin now, better than that sickly pale look he’d had not long ago; it was reassuring. At least the IV fluids seemed to be helping.

 

Dean was going to stay on his case for the next few days to make sure he drank enough water, that was for damn sure.

 

The doctor finally came in, an woman with dark brown skin and black hair streaked with grey, and she clicked her tongue as she flipped through Castiel’s chart. “A workaholic, right?” she asked with a smile, but she didn’t wait for an answer to the rhetorical question. “I’m Dr. Saxena. I would say nice to meet you, but I’m betting you’d rather be elsewhere.”

 

“You have no idea,” Castiel muttered, and the doctor chuckled.

 

“Well, it looks like you just caught the bug that’s been going around and then didn’t keep yourself hydrated. So, if you’ll guarantee that you’ll follow my recommendations, you can leave after a bit more observation.”

 

Castiel snorted. “As long as your recommendations don’t require more than five hours of sleep a night, I can manage that.”

 

She just gave him a look. “How about closer to eight hours, plus 8 glasses of water a day, and a round of meds to knock that nausea down?” she said as she jotted something down on her clipboard.

 

While Castiel was obviously not happy about the extra observation, Dean assured the doctor that he would make sure Castiel followed through with all of her instructions- well, as best he could, anyway. Eight hours of sleep a night was not anywhere in the cards for them anytime soon. The doctor gave strict orders to follow the instructions as best he could, and then disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.

 

“Two hours,” Castiel moaned, burying his face in his hands. “She wants me to stay here _two hours_ , Dean.”

 

“Yeah, and you’re going to stay here two hours,” Dean said, and he realized that he was probably being overprotective, but he really couldn’t care less. He didn’t want Castiel going right back to overworking himself; if being hooked to an IV in a hospital bed was the only way to guarantee that he took a break, then Dean would keep him right here for as long as the doctor felt necessary.

 

“You should go back. You’re losing time on the challenge,” Castiel said, and Dean shook his head.

 

“I’ve already told you, screw the challenge. Getting you back on your feet is more important.”

 

“But _why_?”

 

Dean’s breath caught at the look Castiel gave him. It was an expression of honest confusion, like Castiel couldn’t fathom someone valuing his well being over the competition at hand. And maybe he had a point; there was so much at stake, between the cash, the publicity, the agency…it was a hell of a lot to put at risk.

 

But Dean couldn’t bring himself to regret taking the risk, not for a moment. And he knew that if someone told him before the show that he’d be risking everything just to keep a fellow competitor company, he would have laughed in their face.

 

Seemed like Castiel changed everything.

 

“Because, I…I just…” he started, but before he could come up with a coherent way to explain, a nurse pushed the curtain back and came in to check on Castiel. Dean bit the inside of his cheek in frustration, and instead leaned back in the chair and wondered what the hell was up with him.

 

Oh, right. All his other relationships had been one night stands, or at least started as one night stands. He didn’t have to worry about feelings and emotions when it was obvious to both parties that it was just sex, and if it went further than that, then they went with it.

 

Castiel was different, in nearly every way.

 

The interruption allowed the awkward moment to pass, though, and they were onto other subjects when the nurse left. Like the fact that there was a TV hanging on the wall, but it had been pointedly turned off when they arrived- evidently the producers’ cries of ‘no outside media’ had gotten through to the hospital staff. One nurse was nice enough, though, to slip them a pack of cards to pass the two hours with, which made it go much quicker as Dean taught Castiel how to play Go Fish.

 

Seriously. The guy didn’t know how to play Go Fish. Dean was beginning to wonder if Castiel grew up in a monastery.

 

It didn’t feel like they’d been there for two hours when Dean stepped out of the room so Castiel could get dressed. When Castiel came out from behind the curtain he looked leagues better than when he’d been brought in, a bandage over his arm where the IV had been; now, he just looked tired.

 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Dean said with a grin as they walked down the hallway toward the emergency room doors. But his mind wouldn’t stop running in overdrive as he remembered Castiel’s question earlier, and the look that had been on his face.

 

“Cas,” he blurted, and he grabbed Castiel’s arm before he could push through the double doors, where a camera would inevitably be waiting on the other side. “Wait, about earlier…”

 

Castiel tilted his head in that trademark way, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Earlier?”

 

Dean shifted his weight nervously. “When you asked me…why I stayed here with you. Instead of going back. I just wanted to, you know- before we have cameras in our faces again, I was thinking…”

 

Castiel still had a look of utter confusion on his face, completely clueless, and Dean was still trying to decide how he could say this without completely putting himself out there. He had to do it now, when the cameras were blocked away, the other designers not breathing down his neck- but in the end, he threw caution to the wind. He leaned forward and cupped Castiel’s face in his hands, kissing him gently.

 

He felt Castiel stiffen at first in surprise, and he nearly pulled away- but then Castiel relaxed into it, hesitating only a moment before his hands moved to lightly rest on Dean’s arms as he returned the kiss. Dean smiled into it, his heartbeat loud enough in his own ears that he was certain Castiel could probably hear it too; but this would be the only moment they had like this for a long time, and he was going to make the most of it.

 

Unfortunately, it couldn’t last forever. Dean broke the kiss to catch his breath, because it seemed like he’d forgotten how to breathe and kiss at the same time when it came to Castiel, and Castiel opened his eyes. He still looked a little shocked.

 

“…Oh,” he said, as if he’d just realized why Dean had come with him, why he’d stayed with him, and Dean laughed as he saw the light bulb go on.

 

“Right. Oh,” he said, and he brushed his thumb across Castiel’s cheekbone before he pulled his hands away. “Is this…okay?”

 

Castiel smiled sheepishly, his face definitely not pale now, not with the blush coloring his cheeks. “Yes. Yes, it’s…it’s okay. I mean, it’s great. I wasn’t sure if you…”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said, and he took a deep breath. “We should go. They’ll be waiting on us.”

 

Castiel nodded. “Right. Okay.”

 

Dean couldn’t help it. He leaned in one more time, stealing one more quick kiss before he opened the door and held it open for Castiel.

 

Time to go face the cameras again.

 

*~~~~~~~~*

  
By the time they’d gotten back to the workroom, it had been after dinner. Castiel and Dean only had a few hours left of the day to work, and by the end of the day, both of them were severely behind everyone else.

 

It didn’t help that the teasing the other designers had been doing before only intensified with their return from the hospital. It was obvious that something, however small it might be, had changed between them during the trip, much to the chagrin of the cameramen who knew they’d missed something important. Dean shrugged it off, though; he had no time for it when he was thrown back into trying to salvage his work.

 

When he came in the next morning, though, he still had seams and hems to finish on the dog outfit, and hadn’t even started on the model’s dress. Castiel was like a whirlwind at his station, though he looked tired as hell; to his credit, he had three bottles of water lined up on the edge of his table, and he took long drinks from them anytime Dean prodded him with a reminder.

 

It was the first time in a long while that Dean and Castiel didn’t eat lunch with Charlie and Kevin. There was just no time; Dean found five minutes to get through a turkey sandwich in what had to be record time, and Castiel followed suit not ten minutes later.

 

Dean certainly didn’t feel any better about his situation when Tim came in after lunch to get updated on their work. And of course, his station was the first that Tim stopped at.

 

“Dean, how are you doing?” he asked, and Dean chuckled breathlessly.

 

“I’m just trying to make…something,” he said as Tim looked over the finished dog outfit and the half-cut pieces of the dress he’d started on. He stayed silent for a few long moments, and then he shook his head.

 

“It’s not good. The judges won’t be happy with this.”

 

“I know. I know, Tim, I’m just…trying to survive this one.”

 

To his credit, Tim didn’t beat the dead horse. He knew that Dean was completely aware of how screwed he was, and he knew that taking up valuable time with advice would likely do more harm than good.

 

“Just do your best. Try to make something out of this,” Tim said, and he patted Dean on the shoulder sympathetically before he moved on to Castiel’s table. “Castiel, are you feeling better today?”

 

Castiel took the pin out of his mouth from where he’d been holding it. “Much better, thank you,” he said, still continuing to pin the cloth in place on his dress form despite Tim being right there critiquing the silver dog outfit on the table.

 

“You’re making an entire suit from this fabric?” Tim asked as he lightly touched the shimmering, thick, silver fabric draped on the dress form. Dean’s head snapped up at that; there was no way Castiel could finish an entire women’s suit in one day. Plus the fact that a silver, shimmery women’s suit was questionable, at best.

 

Then again, every time he’d doubted Castiel before, he’d been proven utterly wrong.

 

“I know it’s a long shot. But I think I can do it,” Castiel said, which wasn’t the same confidence he’d displayed on the other questionable challenges, but given the circumstances Dean could understand why he would sound weary. Tim sighed.

 

“I would say it’s far too much to do in one day, but you’ve never allowed me to talk you out of big ideas before.”

 

Castiel twitched as he accidentally stabbed a pin into the tip of his finger. “Not out of a lack of respect for your opinion, I assure you,” he said, though his eyes didn’t leave his work. Tim chuckled.

 

“Oh, I know. I’ll leave you to your work,” he said, and by the time he’d turned to Charlie’s table, she had already turned her dress form to face him. She had a half finished tan trench coat on the dress form, one that easily matched her dog’s coat.

 

“What do you think?” she asked with a grin as Tim studied her work.

 

“I worry that it might be too matchy-matchy,” Tim pointed out, and Charlie shrugged.

 

“Something’s telling me to go with this, Tim. I think it’ll look super sharp,” she insisted, and Dean couldn’t help but smile at the genuine passion in her voice. Tim seemed to feel the same, and he hesitated only a moment before nodding.

 

“If you feel strongly about it, then do it,” he said, and hurricane Charlie quickly went back to work. Tim stepped around her table and went to Kevin’s, where the ruffles on the dog mannequin were taking shape into what was the originally predicted over the top Spanish style Chihuahua costume. On the dress form, though, was a beautiful velvety plunge-neck gown, with a crystal trim from the straps down into the V of the chest, and straight down to the waistline where a belt interrupted the vertical trim.

 

“Kevin, I must say, I am incredibly fond of this dress, and I see where you pulled the concept from your dog’s garment. But the dog’s garment is still too much,” Tim said, and Dean had to agree, despite the slightly disappointed look on Kevin’s face.

 

“You think if I remove some of the crystals on the ruffles it might tone it down?” he asked, and Tim hesitated and studied the garment with a critical eye.

 

“I don’t know. It might cause it to just look like pieces taken off a clown costume, without that extra touch to tie it in with the silver designs on the vest,” he pointed out. “You’ll just have to use your best judgment.”

 

Kevin thanked Tim softly, already lost in thought as he stared at the dog garment and Tim moved on to Meg. From what Dean could see, it looked like she was working on a giant purple scarf for her model in the same fabric as the dog’s sweater, as well as a long sleeved purple dress with a bubble skirt.

 

She didn’t seem that concerned when Tim told her to be careful about exaggerating her model’s hips too much if she was aiming for a commercial look. Then again, Dean wondered why Tim bothered giving her advice when she never bothered to take it. It was almost as bad with Ruby and her dramatic red gown to match her dog’s red gown, both of them dramatically shaped and full of flair; while Tim was worried about it being too much, Ruby obviously didn’t share any of that concern.

 

And Balthazar, well. He was using that same bold, shiny, silver printed fabric to make what looked like a full bodysuit for his model, with a silver miniskirt over the top. It looked like something out of a bad sci-fi film, and though Tim said as much, Balthazar was convinced the judges would see it as high fashion.

 

Dean knew his own work could still get him kicked off in comparison if he didn’t step it up. At least Balthazar’s work was unique and very… _him_.

 

Dean didn’t have time to make his work more in tune with his eclectic tastes. He was making a simple black dress to go with the suit for the dog, and right now, he was just trying to finish. And he couldn’t deny being shaken by what happened the day before- every few minutes he looked up to make sure Castiel was on his feet, and that the water level in the bottles was steadily going down.

 

“Some of you are in better shape than others,” Tim said as he moved to the middle of the room and clapped his hands together. “But regardless, your models will be here later this evening for a fitting- _both_ of your models- and you have until 11pm this evening and precious little time in the morning to finish your looks. So make it work.”

 

That little quip may have been no more than a catch phrase to Dean before now, but since being here and actually working on these challenges, it meant quite a bit more to him now. It was what they all had to fall back on- when everything else was going to shit, they just had to pull it together and make it work however they could. Like what Castiel and Dean were doing now, even though Castiel seemed to be in far better shape than Dean at the moment.

 

The dog fitting went about like he expected. The PAs brought in the dogs, and Dean maneuvered Pookie into the tiny suit- or tried to. It was too small. He sighed heavily and marked the fabric where it needed to be adjusted, then set it aside for later.

 

At least when Jessica showed up, Dean actually had the rough cut of a dress to try on her. And from the look she gave the dress and the tiny suit on the table, Dean knew she wasn’t about to go easy on him.

 

“Dean, um…what happened?” she asked as she stripped down and gently tugged the dress down over her head. Dean laughed, though the sound had no humor in it.

 

“It’s a long story, believe me. Let’s just say we’re aiming for not getting the boot this week,” he said, and he carefully began to pin the alterations in place. She frowned at him.

 

“That’s not like you.”

 

“What can I say, I fumbled this one. Had to happen eventually.”

 

“You don’t have much time to un-fumble it…”

 

“I know. Doin’ my best here, Jess,” he said softly, and then he told her to walk down and back the middle aisle to make sure the dress wasn’t going to ride up. Thank God for small miracles, the fit was turning out good.

 

“I know you can pull it off,” she said with a comforting smile that reminded Dean a lot of his mother. He shoved aside the homesick feeling and gave Jess a quick hug before he helped her out of the dress carefully, so as not to move the pins.

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. You get ready to really rock that runway tomorrow, okay? We’ll need every bit of your sass.”

 

Jessica smiled brightly, her expression almost mischievous. “I’m always prepared to sass things up,” she said, and she kissed Dean on the cheek, then grabbed her purse and followed the rest of the models to the door. Dean let out a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

 

At least someone believed in him. He sure didn’t believe in himself right now.

 

*~~~~~~~*

 

The next morning didn’t go any better.

 

When Dean got into the workroom, he still had hems to finish and a zipper to install, and he quickly did a check on his time while staring at the mostly done dress. He didn’t have time to do both, he knew that much. With a deep breath, he decided to focus on the hems, and instead of a zipper he would sew Jessica into the dress when she got here. It was hardly ideal, but it was all he could do at this point.

 

Castiel looked even better than the previous day, but he was still blatantly slower than usual, more worn down. It looked like he had just as many unfinished hems as Dean, too.

 

It didn’t make Dean feel any better when Jessica arrived with his…other ‘model’. She seemed enamored with the shaggy pooch, talking to it in sweet tones as she carried it over to Dean’s station. Emi walked past them, looking statuesque as usual, the tall black poodle trotting by her side to where Castiel waited for them.

 

“Dean, I don’t see how you could not like him. He’s adorable,” Jessica said as she set Pookie on the table next to the dog mannequin. Dean tried to hold back a frown as he worked on writing down instructions for Jessica to take to hair and makeup- normally he would insist on discussing things with the stylists in person, but he had too much to do this time- and a dog to babysit, evidently.

 

“He’s…something,” Dean offered weakly as he held the paper out to Jessica. “Don’t let them make you look like a drag queen, okay?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got this. You get back to work,” she said, and Dean realized that he wasn’t worried- he trusted her.

 

For the first time, he realized how much he was going to miss her when this was all said and done. They’d become good friends through all this, but she would be modeling all over the world, and Dean would surely be heading back to Kansas. Maybe they could email, or text.

 

Like he and Castiel would have to do when the competition was over.

 

It hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t thought about it in those close conversations, hadn’t really grasped it even when he kissed Castiel in the hospital- they were thousands of miles apart. If Castiel won this whole thing, he would stay here, no doubt, in New York City. Dean wasn’t even entertaining the thought of winning, especially not now, so it would be Kansas for him.

 

He and Castiel were going to be halfway across the country from each other.

 

What had he gotten himself into?

 

He snapped out of it when a wet tongue slurped across the back of his hand, and he flinched and jerked away as Pookie stared up at him with adoring big brown eyes. Right- the challenge. He couldn’t think about all that right now. He had to work, and work hard.

 

The first order of business was getting Pookie into his outfit. Dean found himself praising the dog with the usual endearments- good boy, good dog, stay the fuck still or I’ll turn your fur into a pair of gloves- as he tugged and pulled the tiny suit onto the dog. Pookie took it all in stride, probably because he was trained to let old dudes in suits poke at him strangely anyway.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker,” he breathed out as he took in the sight. After his alterations it was now too big in the shoulders, and it hung down too far below the dog’s belly- it was a hot mess, for lack of a better term. The poor dog looked like he’d been shoved into a suit made for a bulldog.

 

At least the dog looked happy about it. It didn’t really count, though, considering the dog looked happy about anything and everything.

 

He was just glad the other designers were too busy with their dogs to get a look of the mess Dean had made of things. He quickly picked Pookie up and set him on the floor, then looped his leash around one wrist and got to work on the hems of the dress.

 

If the dog outfit sucked, then he at least had to have the human outfit finished. He wasn’t about to go home because of an unfinished garment. A bad one, sure, he could deal with that fuck up. But he didn’t not finish things.

 

If- more likely when- he went home today, he wanted it to be with the knowledge that he’d at least gotten his shit done.

 

Jessica returned when he had one hem left to finish, and he paused in that long enough to get the dress on her and do a whipstitch up the back of the dress where the zipper should have gone. She’d have to find someone with a seam ripper to get her out of it after the runway show, but that was the least of Dean’s worries right now.

 

To his credit, it may only be a little black dress, but it hugged her curves in a slammin’ way. He hadn’t completely lost his touch these past couple days.

 

“He looks like a toddler in his dad’s suit,” Jessica said, trying to hold back laughter as Dean dropped to his knees to finish the hem along the bottom of her dress. Dean laughed and shook his head.

 

“Maybe I can play that up, make it seem intentional.”

 

“I…don’t think they’ll fall for that.”

 

“Stop crushing my dreams with your stilettos.”

 

“These aren’t stilettos, they’re wedges. Honestly, how are you a designer and you don’t know the difference between a stiletto and a wedge?”

 

“I don’t design shoes!”

 

Jessica snorted. “Probably better that way. Most of the shoe designers I’ve met have creepy foot fetishes. Like, the whole ‘I’m so creepy I probably have a bunch of severed feet at home to model shoes with’ kind of fetish.”

 

“…More than I wanted to know, Jess.”

 

“At least you’re not thinking about the runway now,” Jessica pointed out with a grin, and Dean groaned.

 

“Well, I wasn’t, but _now_ I am.”

 

Tim gave them a five minute call out, and Dean sped up his pace, sure he was going to stab himself with his needle. But it paid off- he clipped the last loose thread just as Tim came to get them.

 

Dean gave Jessica one last glance over, and she hugged him before following the other models out of the room with the dogs in tow. Dean split from her to go with the designers, and he fell into step beside Castiel and Charlie.

 

“How’d it go, guys?” Charlie asked, and Castiel frowned.

 

“Not well. I finished, but…it feels messy,” he said, and Dean smirked.

 

“Believe me, whatever you send down the runway can’t be worse than mine,” he said, but before Castiel could reply, a PA hissed for them to go on ice. No more talking, no more distraction.

 

As they filed into their seats, Dean could only wait and let the pressure build on his shoulders and wonder what he could have done differently. Not with Castiel, he wouldn’t change that- but maybe if he hadn’t been so thrown off his game by a dog, he could have rocked this challenge, or at least been confident that he was safe. He felt like a colossal idiot.

 

The judges came in and took their seats, and Dean didn’t recognize the guest judge; she was pretty in a hot soccer mom kind of way, with blue eyes and curly brown hair that fell just past her shoulders. He wouldn’t have to wait long to find out who she was, though; Gabriel finally came onto the runway, his shirt a vibrant shade of coral that probably wouldn’t look good on anyone. It definitely didn’t look good on him; not that it stopped him from wearing it anyway.

 

“Welcome, designers! Heard it was a dog eat dog week for you guys,” he said, and pretty much everyone groaned. That was bad, even for Gabriel.

 

“No appreciation of my genius. Oh well, time to introduce the judges anyway,” he said as he stepped aside so the three other judges could be seen. “First we have Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency. To his right we have Miss Naomi Prevot, editor in chief of Eve Magazine. And our guest judge this week is the lovely Mrs. Amelia Richardson, chairman of the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.”

 

She waved with a friendly smile, and the designers greeted her warmly- they’d been through enough judges lately that were just plain cutthroat that it was nice to have someone, well…’normal’ in the judge’s chair for once. So to speak.

 

“We asked you this week to create a fitting garment for a show dog, and gave you creative license on the design. And then, we threw in a matching design for your model, just to make things interesting,” Gabriel said, recapping for the two judges who weren’t in the know. “The winner of this week’s challenge will not only get immunity, but will also be the last designer in this competition to get immunity. No more safety nets; after this, no one is safe. And on top of that, this week’s winner will get two front row seats at next year’s Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.”

 

Dean winced. No more immunity? He’d known it was coming, but it was still a reminder of how close they were to the end. There were only seven of them left- and after tonight, there would be six.

 

“Shall I remind you what’s at stake?” Gabriel asked, but he didn’t pause for an answer before continuing. “The winner of this season will get $100,000 to start their own line, and a year of representation through Top Designer Management Agency. The winner will also receive a sewing and design technology suite worth $50,000, courtesy of Allen Sewing- and of course, that cozy trip for two to Paris fashion week, an all expenses paid two week vacation. With that in mind…let’s start this dog and pony show!”

 

Gabriel leapt off the runway and went to the judging chairs, stopping to kiss the back of Amelia’s hand before he plopped down in his chair. The lights dimmed, and the soft background music came on- and Jessica was the first model to come out.

 

Dean wanted to melt into his seat and disappear. Jessica had done him a favor- she was carrying Pookie so the bad fit around the dog’s midsection couldn’t be seen- but it was still a badly made garment, that much was obvious. Jessica’s dress was fantastically done, but it was just a little black dress. Plain, unremarkable, and uninspired.

 

It wasn’t near enough to save him.

 

Jessica worked it like the most expensive Versace gown, though. And when she got to the end of the runway, she held Pookie up and planted a kiss right on his wet nose, and she got a lick on the face in return; that earned a laugh from everyone, even Naomi.

 

At least she wouldn’t have any regrets if their run ended tonight. The guilt hit him like a truck- Jessica didn’t deserve to go home. In Dean’s opinion, she was the best model here, and she deserved so much better than the mess he’d handed her today.

 

He owed her an apology, if he got the chance.

 

The second pair to come out was Meg’s dog, the Boston Terrier, with her model. The dog wore a vivid purple winter sweater, a thick knit fabric, and Dean had to admit it was a genius color choice against the black and white. Her model matched in an oversized knit scarf of the same fabric, and a knit top long sleeved dress with a solid colored short bubble skirt, all in shades of purple.

 

It was a good ensemble. Enough to win, if no one else topped it.

 

The next pair out definitely wasn’t in the running for the win this week. Kevin’s model came out carrying the tiny Chihuahua, and while the model looked amazing in the plunge-neck sleek gown, the poor dog looked like it was straight out of a bad Three Musketeers movie. It had a burgundy, velvet vest on, and white ruffles on the cuffs and neck of the outfit. It was over the top, for sure. It was well made, though, and that could save him a lot of grief.

 

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the next pair. Somehow, Castiel had made a women’s suit out of silver, shimmery coat fabric and made it _work_. And while there was a questionable seam here and a couple of loose threads there, the design was solid. It was sharp. The dog looked right at home in the crisp silver coat, the pair gliding down the runway like…well, models.

 

He should have known Castiel would pull off another miracle.

 

Ruby’s dress was next. Her model wore a mermaid style bright red gown, dramatic and impeccably shaped, but the small white poodle was in a ruffled red dress that just looked…cheesy. The judges might be into that, though.

 

They wouldn’t be into the atrocity that hit the runway next- Balthazar’s matching silver dog and human bodysuits, with their bold overlays and catchphrases over the top. The dog- a Bedlington Terrier, he thought he remembered- even looked miserable as it limped down the runway.

 

It wasn’t limping because it was hurt, but because it was wearing matching tiny silver booties on its feet. The looks on the judges’ faces were kind of priceless, actually.

 

The last pair turned the corner, and Dean flat out grinned. It was Gilda and Sid, the French Bulldog, and they looked straight out of a magazine in their beautifully tailored matching tan trench coats. Gilda played it up and the dog fed off her energy, even barking at the end of the runway when Gilda was trying to pose- though Sid was more interested in pointing his ass right at the camera.

 

Dean reached out and clapped a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, not even having to say ‘well done’ for the words to be heard loud and clear. Charlie beamed as Gilda made her way off the runway, and the lights came up as the music faded away.

 

All the amusement drained right out of Dean as the judges’ pencils scratched across their note cards. He knew exactly what they were writing about his- hell, the critique he was already giving himself was probably worse than anything they could say to him.

 

He hoped, anyway.

 

It seemed like hours before they finally called the designers up to the runway. Dean swallowed hard and clasped his hands behind his back, just waiting for the announcement he knew was coming.

 

“Only one of you is safe this week…and that designer is Ruby,” Gabriel said, and Ruby started to move, but Crowley cleared his throat loudly and she stilled.

 

“Ruby, were there not some absolutely abhorrent things on that runway today, you would have solidly been in the bottom three,” he said, and Ruby frowned in confusion as he went on. “This is at least the third time we’ve seen this silhouette from you. It’s becoming stale. We know you’re not a one trick pony, so it goes without saying that we expect to not see a single mermaid style gown from you for the rest of this competition, if you value your position here.”

 

If a pin hit the floor at that moment, everyone would have heard it. Ruby tensed with anger, but didn’t argue- she clenched her fists and nodded once before she retreated back to the designers’ chairs.

 

That was about the most blatant warning Dean had ever heard on this show. Things were really getting serious now.

 

“So, we’re left with our top three and bottom three. In the top, we have Castiel, Charlie, and Meg. And in the bottom, that leaves Balthazar, Dean, and Kevin,” Gabriel said, and Dean slouched a little. He’d been prepared for it, but it was still hard to hear. Nonetheless, he put on a smile for Jessica when the models came out to join them on the runway, panting happy dogs at the ends of their leashes.

 

“We’ll talk to the top three first,” Gabriel said as he shifted in his chair. “Meg! Darling, this is sublime. Truly.”

 

Naomi nodded. “I love the palette you chose. It could have been a risk, but you played with the textures well.”

 

“Thank you,” Meg said, and Dean wanted to puke at the smirk on her face. Sure, she’d done well this week- but she was still an asshole.

 

“I know quite a few friends who would love to have that sweater for their dog. It’s chic and casual without being too much for the dog,” Amelia pointed out, and Crowley nodded.

 

“Good choice. You played well to your client, even if it couldn’t exactly give you a look book to start from. I do worry about the average woman’s willingness to buy a skirt that emphasizes the hips like that, though,” he added, and Gabriel flipped to his next note card.

 

“Charlie. I want this. No, seriously, I’m getting a dog tomorrow, and then I’m having you make it one of these,” he said with a grin, and Charlie laughed.

 

“Maybe when the competition is over.”

 

“He’s not wrong. I’ve seen lots of coats for dogs, and this one is one of the best. It’s tailored perfectly, it’s stylish, and it’s got personality,” Amelia said, then she looked to Naomi, who nodded in agreement.

 

“They are picture perfect. They look like they stepped out of a magazine. You had a real vision here and you followed through with it,” she said, and Charlie was nearly bouncing with excitement now, which made Crowley chuckle.

 

“Yes, it’s all been said. You took this challenge by the horns, love. You and your models.”

 

Meanwhile, Sid sat down and bypassed his shiny new trench coat to lick his balls.

 

A charming model indeed.

 

“Castiel, we heard you had a hiccup in your routine that first day,” Gabriel said, and Castiel winced.

 

“I was ill, that’s all,” he muttered, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

 

“Well, do try to stay out of the hospital from here on out. We’re actually kind of fond of you, I’d rather not see you be a casualty of the competition, even if it’s awesome for ratings,” he said, which earned him a glare from Naomi and an eye roll from Crowley, who quickly took over the talking.

 

“This is a very nice ensemble. It’s sharp, it’s fashionable, and…well, I can tell you weren’t at your best while making it.”

 

Naomi sighed. “It’s a wonderful pair of garments. You’re in the top because of the design, and…less for the execution. But now knowing the whole story, I can see why you might have a crooked seam here and there.”

 

Castiel was obviously embarrassed. Dean wanted to walk right down the line and throw an arm around him, let him know that this was a good thing, that he got in the top three because his design was so strong that it overshadowed the flaws- but he knew Castiel wouldn’t see it that way. It was pretty clear he saw the whole fiasco as a personal failure.

 

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m not exactly a fashionista, but this looks amazing to me. The clean lines go so well with the traditional haircut of the Standard Poodle. I really appreciate the thought you put into this, and if I had a poodle, I would want this coat for it. Not sure I could pull off the flashy suit, though,” Amelia said with a warm smile, and that seemed to relax Castiel at least a little bit.

 

Of course, now it was time for the bottom three.

 

“Balthazar…what is this?” Gabriel asked, and really, when Gabriel thought you’d gone over the top, that should be a wake up call, Dean thought.

 

“They represent the American fashion industry. All sharp lines and flashy colors and trendy words,” Balthazar explained as his dog tried to chew a bootie off one of its paws.

 

“They represent some kind of tragedy,” Naomi said with a disgusted look. “This is…not symbolism. This is…”

 

“Some kind of god awful sci-fi movie,” Crowley finished, not pulling any punches. “Not even a sci-fi movie. She looks like she belongs in that music video where the young lady fights aliens and fires rockets out of her breasts.”

 

There was a long pause, and then Gabriel gave Crowley a look. “Since when were you into Ariana Grande?” he asked, and Crowley snorted.

 

“I’m not. However, there is a certain pull to watching train wrecks, and both that video and this outfit certainly qualify.”

 

There was a longer pause as the producer halted everyone, and Dean just knew they were leaving plenty of space to edit that part out when the show aired.

 

Somehow, he had the feeling if they ever wanted Ariana Grande as a guest judge, they shouldn’t air their judges referring to her music videos as a ‘train wreck’.

 

…But it kinda did sound like a train wreck. One that Dean could go without seeing.

 

“The dog is clearly uncomfortable,” Amelia said as the producer motioned for them to continue.  “One thing I never do is put my dogs in an outfit that they’re not happy to be in. A majority of dogs don’t like booties or anything on their paws, and he’s no exception. And the outfit is too tight on him, he’s too restricted.”

 

“Yes, well, we all suffer for fashion,” Balthazar said, and he crossed his arms defiantly as Gabriel turned to look at Kevin.

 

“Kevin, we didn’t say to dress your dog in period costume for a Shakespeare gig,” he pointed out, and Kevin’s shoulders sagged a little.

 

“I…wasn’t going for that. I was aiming for a Spanish inspiration, I guess, and it got away from me.”

 

“You need practice in editing,” Naomi said as she tapped her note card with her pencil. “Kevin, you have the same problem that many young designers struggle with; when you’re on, you’re on. But if you get off track, you simply have trouble recovering. I think you need more time to develop your methods.”

 

Crowley nodded. “There’s talent here. We brought you on this show because you are undeniably an excellent designer. And when you have a great idea, it blows us away. But you need consistency. There’s an example right here in front of us; that dress is a beautiful garment, while the dog’s outfit is a mess.”

 

Kevin bit his lip and nodded, and Amelia chuckled. “Well, I thought it was kind of cute, even if it is a little cheesy. There is always a market for dog costumes.”

 

There was a pause as note cards were shifted, and Dean felt himself tense up. His turn. He felt like he was walking the plank here.

 

“Dean, my man…what happened?” Gabriel said, tilting his head as he wrinkled his nose at Jessica and Pookie. “This is bad. This is…really bad.”

 

“It’s a mess,” Naomi said. “It doesn’t fit the dog right, it’s poorly tailored, it’s uninspired- we expected better from you.”

 

And damn, that probably hurt worse than just saying it sucked. That they expected more from him, expected something polished and more thought through; he swallowed hard and nodded.

 

“I fumbled this one. I don’t have an excuse for this,” he managed, not about to defend his work. Jessica slipped her arm through his, trying to be comforting and somewhat succeeding despite the circumstances. “I know it’s bad. I messed up.”

 

“I think messed up is the polite term for this craft project. This isn’t even adult work. This is like a middle schooler wanted to make a suit for her dog,” Crowley said, and Dean dropped his gaze down to the floor. They were right, of course, but…that was painful.

 

What he wasn’t expecting was to hear Castiel pipe up from down the line. “Excuse me, may I speak?” he asked, and the judges looked taken aback; designers rarely spoke during each other’s critiques, let alone the ever stoic Castiel. Dean shot him a look, but Castiel’s gaze was firmly set on the judges.

 

“I’m partially to blame for his situation. He went with me to the hospital and stayed with me the whole evening, even though I was further along in my work than he was at the time,” he explained, tossing Dean an unsure look. “I only ask that it be taken into consideration in his evaluation.”

 

Dean caught Castiel’s eye, and he wanted to convey how angry and how thankful he was at the same time; that Castiel had stood up for him, and that Castiel had made excuses for his shoddy work that he would never have made on his own. The judges were quiet for a moment before Naomi finally spoke.

 

“While it’s unlikely to sway any final decision, we will make note of that in the deliberation, Castiel,” she said, and Dean wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or more worried as Gabriel dismissed them to the back so the judges could deliberate.

 

At least he was out of the hot seat for now. There was a certain relief in knowing that he couldn’t do anything to change his fate now; it was all up to the judges. He was done with the challenge, done with the worry, and now, he just wanted to lie down and not think for a while.

 

But first, he caught up with Castiel the moment they were off the runway. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly, and Castiel smiled and shrugged.

 

“Gabriel explained why my work was flawed. I had thought they might do you the same courtesy without my interference,” he explained, and yeah, Dean could see where he was coming from. Not that it would help; Naomi blatantly said that it wouldn’t affect their final decision on who got eliminated.

 

“Well…thanks,” he managed, and then he looked over his shoulder at Charlie. “And congrats on your win ahead of time,” he said to her, which earned him a sour look from Meg, who was just behind her.

 

Charlie groaned. “See? Now you’ve jinxed it. Thanks, Dean,” she said with playful sarcasm as they entered the waiting room. A local barbeque place had catered, and Dean thought for a moment how much Benny would have loved it. Probably Jo, too.

 

He managed to convince Castiel to try and eat some of the chicken, though Castiel didn’t look thrilled at the idea of eating any of this; while the pills helped a bit, he was still fighting nausea. Dean wasn’t about to let him go and collapse again, though, and making sure Castiel ate something was a handy distraction from thinking about the conversation the judges must be having right now.

 

He didn’t think they would send Kevin home, not for being ‘inconsistent’ when he’d already displayed some amazing work. As far as Dean was concerned, it would be between him and Balthazar, and honestly, after the shit show he walked down the runway, he wasn’t entirely convinced they’d rather keep him on over the ever-entertaining insanity of Balthazar’s designs. Dean may have fucked up too bad to bounce back from this.

 

“Stop thinking so hard. You’re gonna stay, I promise,” Charlie said as she jabbed Dean with her fork. Dean tried to grab the fork from her, but she easily dodged.

 

“I’m not really sure you’re right,” he muttered, rubbing his arm where he’d been brutally stabbed via kitchen utensil.

 

“She’s right,” Castiel said, and then he lowered his voice so as not to be heard by the trio across the room. “This is your first time in the bottom three, isn’t it? Balthazar’s been there nearly every week.”

 

Dean couldn’t bring himself to be convinced. “Yeah, but I really screwed this up. Like, a lot.”

 

“They won’t send you home on one fuck up, even if it’s major,” Charlie said, and Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

“One word: Ramona.”

 

Castiel sighed. “Ramona was a colossal bitch who treated her client like shit because she was plus size. I didn’t hear Pookie out there complaining about you being species-ist.”

 

“Nah, he wouldn’t complain about Dean, just the outfit. I would’ve put him in a little bomber jacket, maybe with goggles, and-“

 

Charlie stopped mid-sentence at the venomous glare she got from both Castiel and Dean, and she laughed nervously. “Right. Sorry. Not helping.”

 

Dean finished eating and leaned back on the couch just as Meg strolled over and sat on the coffee table. Castiel had his head leaned back and his eyes closed and didn’t see her coming, but Charlie and Dean gave her a wary look.

 

“Sorry about your luck, Winchester. Can’t say I didn’t warn you that indulging your chivalry was a bad move,” she said as she tapped her fingernails on the lacquered surface. “But everyone has to take a turn in the hot seat. Even miracle boy here,” she added with a glance at Castiel, who finally opened his eyes to glare at her.

 

“Yeah, you warned me. And I would still do it again tomorrow, so you can save your breath next time,” Dean said, and he meant it, too. Even if he knew it would cost him the win, he would still do the exact same thing if Castiel or Charlie needed him to be there for them. Meg laughed and crossed her legs.

 

“I don’t know how you’ve lasted this long if you’re not willing to toss some moralistic garbage to the side to make sure you win.”

 

“That moralistic garbage is why he’s gonna wipe the floor with you,” Charlie said, and then she abruptly stood and stepped away. “I’m getting seconds.”

 

Meg watched her go, and then she looked back to Dean with the same infuriating smirk. “Well, Dean. I look forward to you trying to ‘wipe the floor’ with me. It’ll be good practice for when you’re back in your coveralls in Kansas mopping floors for a living.”

 

Dean almost snapped back at her, but he felt Castiel’s hand on his arm, squeezing just tight enough to get his attention as Meg stood to leave. “Let it go,” he said, not letting go of Dean’s arm until Meg had gone back to Ruby and Balthazar. “She’s just trying to psyche you out. She’s all talk.”

 

Dean leaned back with a huff. “I know. I still want to put Legos in her high heels or something,” he said, and Castiel frowned and cocked his head.

 

“Why would you put children’s toys in her shoes…?”

 

And okay, that was enough to cheer Dean up instantly, especially when he got to repeat it to Charlie when she got back. It quickly turned into an ‘explain all the obscure catch phrases to Cas’ game that managed to keep all three of them entertained- and Castiel a little flustered- until a PA returned and told them to come back to the runway.

 

All at once, Dean’s stomach clenched like a crushed can as the anxiety came flooding back. He stood and took a deep breath, and Charlie grinned at him encouragingly as they followed the group back out into the bright spotlights.

 

Dean took his place between Charlie and Balthazar, the heat and stress already making him sweat as everyone else got into place. They adjusted the lighting before finally Gabriel sat up straighter in his seat and focused on the designers.

 

“Let’s start with the top three, as usual,” he said, his note cards in hand, almost certainly unneeded at this point and just there for looks. “Castiel, you’re in.”

 

Castiel let out a breath of relief and nodded, and he thanked the judges as Gabriel turned to look at Charlie and Meg. “Charlie, your themed garments were just on the right side of matchy fashion. Everyone loved your looks, and they would sell to every kind of pet owner. Meg, your looks are not only fashionable, but functional with a genius pop of color. You did well adjusting to your four legged client’s needs.”

 

He paused for a long few seconds before continuing. “Charlie…you are the winner of this challenge!”

 

Charlie hopped on her toes and turned to hug Dean, and he laughed and ruffled her hair. She poured out a multitude of thank yous to all the judges until Gabriel had to cut her off to continue his spiel.

 

“You’re the last designer to get immunity, Charlie, so you better work it next week. You also get two front row tickets to next year’s Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. And Meg, of course, this means you’re in as well,” he said, and then his gaze fell on Dean and the other bottom two. Dean immediately tensed.

 

Here it was. Moment of truth- cliché, but appropriate.

 

“Kevin, while your work has been inconsistent, we’re still convinced you’ve got more to show us in this competition. You’re safe this week,” he said, and Kevin dropped his head back and clasped his hands together with a murmured ‘thank you, God’. As Gabriel turned to look at him and Balthazar, Dean felt his throat tighten and his stomach twist again, but he tried not to let his anxiety show.

 

“Dean. You really dropped the ball this week in a spectacular fashion. It was like watching a semi crash into a train that derailed into a nuclear power plant. To say we’re disappointed would be a massive understatement,” he said, and Dean didn’t argue, even to himself- it was all true. He’d fucked up. “Balthazar, while we appreciate eclectic ideas and innovative design, we’re beginning to wonder if you’re capable of designing anything that would count as commercial. It’s obvious that you design for you, and not for the general populace, or even whatever client we assign you.”

 

The pause this time was unbearably long. Dean shifted his weight as he waited, already psyching himself up to pack his bag and go home, and maybe not see Castiel or Charlie for a long, long time.

 

“Balthazar…I’m sorry, but there’s no more chances,” Gabriel said, and Dean could have dropped to the floor with the wave of relief that swept through him. He felt Charlie’s arms lock around him again, and he barely managed to hug her back, the moment a little too overwhelming.

 

“Dean,” Gabriel said, waiting to get his attention. “This week was inexcusable. But we were all in agreement that you knew how badly you messed this up, and we’re expecting you to bounce back from this wreck in a spectacular way. Don’t let us down.”

 

Dean nodded vigorously. “Yeah. I mean, no. I won’t. I won’t let you down,” he managed, fumbling over the words in his relief. The judges said their goodbyes to an unusually stoic looking Balthazar, and the designers filed off the runway to where Tim stood in the waiting room.

 

“Balthazar…I know you’ve got immense talent, but I think this competition just wasn’t a good fit for your style,” he said, and Balthazar snorted.

 

“Yes, because my style isn’t boring, nor will it ever be. But good luck to the rest of you uninspired Yanks,” he said, and he mock saluted as he left the room to go pack his things. Tim didn’t look surprised in the least- and then, after hugging Charlie and congratulating her, he pulled Dean into a hug too.

 

“It was an admirable thing you did, Dean. Don’t let anyone try to convince you it was a bad decision,” he said, and then he pulled back to smile at Dean, and then Castiel. “I’m proud of both of you for pulling through that and still sending complete works down the runway…however questionable they may have been.”

 

Dean laughed. “Thanks, Tim,” he said, and then a PA tugged at him and told him he was first today for the confessionals. Dean wasn’t surprised; they wanted to interview him while he was still high on the adrenaline, and not give him a chance to wind down and reflect.

 

He dropped down in the confessional chair, and the producer went through the basics- asking him to recap how he felt at certain points during the challenge, making sure he commented on his own work as well as whoever else’s work that he was willing to. Dean didn’t hesitate to shower praise on Charlie for this week, that was for sure.

 

“So, are you and Castiel together now?” the producer asked, and Dean chuckled- he’d been waiting for that. And he knew just as well that Castiel wouldn’t want him spilling everything to a camera and going over the top about it.

 

“We’re good friends.”

 

The producer gave him a look. “Come on now, everyone knows.”

 

Dean smirked. “Well, if everyone knows, then why are you asking me?”

 

“What happened at the hospital?” the producer pushed, a last ditch effort to try and get something out of the line of questioning.

 

“What usually happens at hospitals. They treated him. And I kept him company, since you told the nurses to turn off the TV in his room,” Dean pointed out, and the producer sighed and leaned back in his seat.

 

“So, what’s your approach to next week, after your disappointing performance this week?” he asked, and Dean laughed again.

 

“My approach to next week? Don’t fuck it up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to reference pics (garment reference only, makeup and model not applicable):
> 
> [Balthazar](http://i.imgur.com/MuikkDl.jpg)
> 
> [Charlie](http://i.imgur.com/XDWb4Ua.jpg)
> 
> [Meg](http://i.imgur.com/emNq2XO.jpg)
> 
> [Castiel](http://i.imgur.com/svseBxj.jpg)
> 
> [Dean](http://i.imgur.com/w3Uh0qn.jpg)
> 
> [Kevin](http://i.imgur.com/HfOup2d.jpg)
> 
> [Ruby](http://i.imgur.com/rebuX9V.jpg)


	8. Mirror, Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their models get a break this week, and for some of the designers, their temporary models may be enough to drive them mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in the game. Current plan is to have this whole thing finished in under a month; I got laid off from work for the summer, so until hurricane season kicks in, I have way too much time on my hands and no excuse to leave y'all hanging any longer. (That said, these chapters are BEASTS. 30-40 pages a chapter is insane. What even is this.)

The pressure was on.

From the moment Dean woke up the next morning, it was like a lead weight sitting on his shoulders, constantly reminding him that he was hanging in this competition by a frayed thread after the fiasco of the last challenge. Sure, there was that measure of relief that the judges had given him another chance, but he was well aware that this was the only chance he was going to get, the only freebie- one more fuck up, no matter how small, and he would be gone.

Breakfast- or coffee and cereal, rather- was unusually quiet with Balthazar missing. It was back to being like the first week, when it was just Dean, Castiel, and Kevin in the apartment, before so many of the other guys went home.

“So, let’s make a deal that this challenge will not be as dramatic as the last one. I’m just sayin’,” Kevin said, and Dean snorted.

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” he said, and Castiel didn’t have to say a word for them to know that he agreed. Castiel looked leagues better than he had the past two days; he was actually eating breakfast, the color back in his face and the dark circles under his eyes back down to normal ‘I’m exhausted’ levels rather than ‘I am in imminent danger of death’ levels.

They met up with the other designers downstairs, Charlie immediately making a beeline for them when they stepped off the elevator; he felt bad for her, having to share an apartment with Meg and Ruby. He wished they weren’t strict about the gender split housing, or he would invite Charlie to take the extra space in their apartment in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately, that would cut into the drama that the producers were so fond of creating.

“It’s like Mount Doom in that apartment. I’m stuck in Mount Doom with Frodo and Gollum in their crazy modes,” she said as she practically glued herself to Dean’s side. 

“I would sleep with a knife under my pillow if I were you,” Dean joked, and Castiel gave him a surprised look.

“That sounds like incredibly dangerous advice.”

Dean laughed, but didn’t get a chance to explain that it was pretty much a figure of speech before they were herded to the runway by the PAs. They sat down in the designer chairs- only six left now, god- and waited for their daily briefing from Gabriel.

“Good morning, designers!” Gabriel said as he stepped onto the runway, way too cheerful and peppy for six in the morning, as usual. He didn’t get more than a few grumbles in reply, which was also normal.

“I have good news and bad news for you. Which do you want first?” he continued, unfazed by their lack of enthusiasm. A couple voices piped up telling him to just start with the bad news, and he chuckled. “The bad news is that you won’t be working with your models this week. The good news, however, is that you’re getting models for this challenge that you already know, so you won’t be seeing yet another set of total strangers in their underwear during fittings.”

Dean perked up a little. Was this a family and friends challenge? Would he have to make an outfit for his mom? Oh god, let it be Mom, and not Sam. He couldn’t afford the fabric to clothe Sam on any All Star Designer budget.

“Charlie, you won the last challenge, so you have immunity for this challenge and cannot be eliminated. However, you’re the last designer who will get immunity; after this, anyone can go home, no matter how well you’ve done before. We’re down to the wire here, designers,” Gabriel said with a grin. “So, head on upstairs and have a chat with Tim. He’ll give you all the information you need about the challenge, and I believe he’ll be introducing you to your models as well. Have fun!”

With that, he practically pranced off the runway, and Dean stood and gave Charlie and Castiel a shrug. ‘Models that they knew already’ could mean anything; hell, they might be bringing the dogs back, for all they knew.

Dean might cry if he had to dress another dog in his lifetime.

Upstairs, the first thing Tim did was check in with Castiel to make sure he was feeling alright before he even lined up the designers. Dean was more thankful for Tim than anyone else involved in this production, as he seemed to be the only person who actually gave a shit about the contestants, beyond seeing them as a source of drama for ratings.

“Well, as I’m sure Gabriel told you, you have new models for this week. Would you like to meet them?” Tim asked once he had them lined up, and of course the answer was an enthusiastic ‘yes’. Tim smiled brightly. “Well then, look to your right and left, because one of your fellow designers will be your model for this challenge.”

Dean’s heart skipped like a flat stone on a lake, because he realized all at once that this could be very bad, or very good. If he got Charlie, Castiel, or Kevin, he would be fine. If he got Meg or Ruby…this could get messy.

Tim pulled out the dreaded button bag, tugging it open. “I’ll split you into teams of two, and then I’ll explain the challenge and the budget,” he said, plucking out the first button, then the second. “Kevin…looks like you’ll be working with Ruby on this one.”

Dean restrained the urge to pat Kevin on the shoulder or something, because that right there? That was shitty luck. At least Meg had proven capable of working with someone well enough to get work done, but Ruby was a patented bitch and a half. Castiel was pretty much a saint, and she still managed to repeatedly piss him off when they were forced to work together.

Tim pulled out the next button. “And Dean,” he said, reaching into the bag again as Dean held his breath. “Dean will be working with Castiel for this challenge. Which means Charlie, you’ll be paired up with Meg.”

It was an odd mix, feeling the flood of relief at working with Castiel and not Meg, but at the same time, he felt awful that Charlie was stuck working with her. He caught her eye as they shuffled the line to stand next to their new partners, and she did not look happy in the least. Castiel, though, looked just as relieved as Dean felt. Meg and Ruby…well, they never looked happy around here anyway, but they seemed perturbed at their assignments, as expected.

“Well, you’ve gotten to know each other pretty well in the time you’ve been here, I would say. Well enough that you all know each other’s personal style,” Tim said, and Dean bit back a comment about getting to know some of them better than he wanted to, which was not at all. “For this challenge, you’ll be taking your partner’s personal style and turning it on it’s head. We want you to dress your design partner in the antithesis of their usual flair. You will both design and walk the runway this week.”

Dean nearly groaned. Walk the runway? He wasn’t a model. He would probably fall flat on his face.

“Um…does bad modeling count against us?” Kevin asked, and Tim laughed.

“You’ll be happy to know we won’t be judging your runway walk. However, to help you prepare, your models will be stopping by tomorrow evening to give you some pointers before your big debut,” he explained. “You’ll have until midnight tonight and then till 11pm tomorrow to finish, and you have a budget of $200. And I implore you to be careful with this one, because it would be very easy to slip into stereotypes in this challenge. I have faith in you, though. So, you have thirty minutes to sketch and discuss with your partner starting…now.”

The groups split off as the timer started, with Dean and Castiel just going to their usual workstations, seeing as how they were right beside each other anyway. Dean was actually feeling excited about this challenge; no dogs, for one. He could work with this easily, because Castiel’s usual style was the flawless button up and pressed dress pants. There were so many opposite directions he could go in from there.

“So, how do you feel about leather, Cas?” he asked with a grin, and Castiel actually looked a little frightened.

“Please tell me you mean a leather jacket and not, like…leather chaps or something,” he said, and Dean almost laughed, but caught himself in time to pretend he was actually considering it. 

“I don’t know, a nice pair of assless chaps is something you definitely wouldn’t wear…”

“Dean.”

“Alright, alright, no. I was thinking a nice leather jacket. Maybe a pair of jeans, too, since I don’t think you even own any,” Dean said, taking pity on the poor guy, whose face was now an interesting shade of red. Oh, yeah, and a camera right there on them.

“I own jeans. I think,” Castiel muttered, and then he gave Dean a look. “You’re going to make a pair of blue jeans and a leather jacket in two days?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Mr. I’m going to use 30 yards of tulle in one dress in two days.”

“That was entirely different. And I’m not going to put you in a dress, anyway,” Castiel said, and then he paused. “However, that would fit the theme.”

Dean practically choked on air. “You put me in tulle and that leather jacket will become assless chaps,” he threatened, though it was hard to threaten someone who was laughing at you. Especially when you were starting to laugh right along with them.

It was kind of awkward, given the uncomfortable, stilted conversation in the rest of the room. Dean and Castiel definitely had an advantage here.

Or maybe not, since it would be way too easy to get distracted, having to fit things on Castiel.

…Oh, yeah. They were going to have to strip down to get fitted.

Maybe having Castiel as a partner wasn’t such a great plan after all. Dean was pretty sure he would become famous for all the wrong reasons if he got a boner while fitting his design partner.

“I’m not going to just go with a suit. That would be…boring,” Castiel said, ignorant to Dean’s sudden epiphany as he tapped his pencil against his sketchbook. Dean shook himself out of the state of paranoid daydreaming he’d been in, because he needed to get down to business; if he was planning to make a leather jacket, jeans, and a shirt, he needed to at least get a rough sketch down. Leather was not cheap, not in the least, so planning for the budget was crucial.

“I trust your judgment, Cas. More than some of the other people in this room, for sure,” Dean said, shuddering as he tried to imagine what Meg or Ruby would have him in. Probably a sweater vest or something. Not that there was anything wrong with a well made sweater vest, but…he wouldn’t want to wear that even as an antithesis to what he usually wore. Sam would never let him live it down.

Castiel gave him a rather pleased look, and immediately set to sketching. It seemed that the words of encouragement were what he needed to feel better putting something concrete down on the paper. Dean turned to his own blank page, took a deep breath, and started to sketch.

He hadn’t done much menswear, to be honest. He’d made a suit for Sam when he had trouble finding one that fit for his high school graduation, and he’d made a few jackets and button up shirts, but that was about it. He wasn’t going to have it easy; a nice leather jacket normally took him two or three weeks to make, and here he was going to try and cram it down into two days, along with two other pieces.

However, seeing Castiel in a leather jacket and some jeans that showed off his physical attributes a little better was an incredible motivation to get the job done and do it well.

Well, that and the fact that he had an axe hanging over his neck, as far as the judges were concerned. If he wanted to get back in their good graces, he couldn’t settle for mediocre. He needed to wow them.

He’d gotten the jeans and jacket sketched out when Tim called for them to head out to the vans to head to Swatches. It wasn’t a big deal; Dean would make sure he got exactly what he needed in the denim and leather, and then he could make an instinct purchase on some cloth for the shirt. The shirt didn’t have to be anything special; he didn’t want anything to take away from the jacket he was making.

With only six of them left, they all got herded into the front van, with the eliminated contestants following in the second van. Dean dropped down on the seat between Charlie and Castiel, and he gave Charlie a sympathetic look.

“Got a good idea to work with?” he asked, deliberately being non-confrontational, since Meg was in the seat right in front of them. The last thing Charlie needed was for Dean to make her job harder.

“Yeah, I think so,” Charlie said with an exasperated sigh. “I know what kind of fabric I want, I just…I don’t know if they’ll have what I’m looking for, or if I’ll need to grab a solid color and some dye and have a go of it on my own.”

“You’ll only get one shot with the dye. If you don’t get it right the first time, you may work yourself into a corner,” Castiel pointed out, and Charlie bit down on her lower lip in thought.

“I know. I’m just gonna have a look and go with my instinct. And then hope my instinct is right.”

Dean chuckled. “You are not alone there,” he said, and Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, but Dean just smirked.

At least they managed that much small talk. The van felt like it had been filled with 6 parts human and 1000 parts awkward silence. Dean was relieved when they pulled up to the shop and made their way inside, where true to form, dog rat thing was waiting beside the counter to stare at Dean. It had on a sweater today, some kind of shiny, sparkly knit that probably cost a week’s worth of wages per yard.

“Okay, designers. You have 30 minutes to shop and a budget of $200,” Tim explained again, passing out the envelopes of cash. “Keep in mind that you’re not designing for your usual model, so you need to adjust your fabric needs accordingly. Your time starts…now!”

Dean knew exactly where he needed to go. He turned to the nearest employee. “Leather?” he asked, and the woman pointed toward the back of the ground floor. Dean nodded his thanks and took off at a jog; he couldn’t afford to run out of time on this one.

He found the rows of leather and fur along the back wall, and he went straight to the section full of black. He tended toward dark or medium brown shades for himself, but with Castiel’s hair being so dark, the black leather of the jacket would really play up the contrast between dark hair and light eyes. He didn’t even bother looking at the cheaper leathers on the lower shelf- if he was going to do this, he would do it right.

Ruby obviously didn’t have the same idea. As Dean pulled a large black lambskin leather hide from a stack on the shelves and winced at the $53 price tag per hide, Ruby stepped past him and knelt down, pausing only a moment before tugging out the bolt of faux leather vinyl fabric.

It was cheaper by 38 dollars and easier to sew, but she would get exactly what she paid for. Dean knew full well that while real quality leather would look supple and natural under the glaring lights of the runway, the vinyl content in the faux leather would give it an unnatural shine. Anyone within a half mile of that runway would be able to tell she used cheap fabric.

But that was her problem, and if she didn’t know, he wasn’t about to warn her.

He turned his attention back to his own fabric, studying the size of the large hide. He knew he would need two, so he pulled another one off the shelf. There went 106 dollars of his 200 dollar budget.

He went straight for the denim next. He found a dark blue denim that just looked right sitting next to the black leather, and he grabbed the bolt and took it straight to the cutting table, asking them to cut five yards; another fifty dollars gone.

He left the fabric long enough to get all the notions he needed, because that was one thing he couldn’t skimp on when it came to a leather jacket; a solid zipper, metal buttons, and elastic and Velcro for various seams and closures all went into a pile on the lamb hides he’d set aside, along with a cheap, silky black fabric for lining the jacket.

He looked up at the clock; five minutes to go, and he just needed the shirt fabric. After the notions were added in, he had 26 dollars left to spend, and that was more than he’d expected to have, honestly.

He headed straight for the jersey blends, and it didn’t take long before one pretty much leapt out at him; a medium weight cotton jersey blend that was a mottled mix of light and dark green shades. It looked almost like paintbrush strokes across the fabric, but it didn’t scream ‘chick pattern’, either. He checked the price- twelve dollars a yard, and he would need two. Perfect; he had everything now, and got it all with two dollars to spare.

Castiel and Meg were already done checking out by the time Dean got to the register, and Kevin wasn’t far behind him. Ruby and Charlie both cut it close, getting into the line the moment Tim called time.

“Alright, let’s get back to Brighton’s so you can take your measurements and get started,” Tim said, clapping his hands together and leading the way back out to the vans.

Turned out, taking measurements was just about as bad as the fittings would be. You couldn’t exactly take your own measurements accurately, so when an inseam measurement was needed, that meant you were getting up close and personal with your partner. Normally this didn’t pose a problem; of course, normally Dean wasn’t dying to kick the cameras aside and make out with his ‘client’ on the nearest tabletop.

Castiel, of course, was infuriatingly professional about the whole thing. Dean was sure he was doing it on purpose to tease Dean about being flustered. It wasn’t fair; the camera was right there, just waiting on them to do something episode worthy, and his fumbling around was probably giving them all the material they needed.

“Thought you weren’t making a suit,” Dean asked when he saw Castiel take some expensive looking black suiting material and stiff white fabric from his Swatches bag.

“I’m not. Well, not really.”

Dean would have questioned him farther, but Charlie passed by with bottles of dye and a cream colored fabric, headed for the sink on the other side of Castiel’s workstation. Dean smirked.

“Actually going for the dye?”

Charlie laughed. “Yeah, I know. It’s not really smart.”

“You’ll probably get points for bravery, even if it goes wrong.”

“I don’t think points for bravery will count for much if it looks like I rolled the fabric in dog shit.”

“I don’t know, they might consider a shit stained look ‘edgy’ and ‘fashion forward’,” Dean said, and he received a sponge lobbed at his head in return.

“Don’t you have leather to abuse with your car or something?” she asked with a laugh, eyeing the leather hide on Dean’s table. Dean scoffed.

“Cas isn’t the car-beaten leather type. I’m just gonna take some steel wool to the parts that need some wear. Maybe get it damp and make him wear it for a couple hours like that so it breaks in to his shape better,” he said, knowing that lambskin was too soft of a leather for some of the harder tactics. That, and he wanted this to actually look like a new leather jacket, but a comfortable one- not one that looked like it had been through forty years of daily use.

“You want me to wear a leather jacket while I’m sewing?” Castiel asked, giving Dean a look of disbelief.

“Hey, gotta suffer for the craft, Cas,”

Castiel rolled his eyes and turned back to his work, which oh yeah, was probably a good idea right about now. Dean grabbed the tape measure and chalk and the paper with Castiel’s measurements, and he set to work marking up the leather to cut out the pattern pieces.

The room was eerily quiet as they worked. Normally it was a little more relaxed of an atmosphere, and by all rights this wasn’t the craziest challenge they’d had, but the fact that two pairs were working with people they hated probably didn’t help the vibe much. Dean couldn’t help but try to catch a few glances of Ruby’s table across the aisle, where she was working with the faux leather she’d picked up; it looked like she was going much the same route as Dean, putting Kevin in denim and leather.

But even from just a glance, Dean could tell she wasn’t used to working with leather, even fake leather. And this wasn’t the type of material that leant itself well to hiding mistakes. 

He couldn’t get cocky, though. Everyone in this room was an amazing designer. Every single one of them had a chance of winning this thing, and anyone could go home from here on out. The competition was too intense for anyone to be safe, and to be honest, Dean was surprised he’d done as well as he had so far. Castiel was some kind of savant with fabric, Kevin was a freakin’ prodigy, Charlie had an amazing personal style, and Ruby and Meg both had years of experience in the industry- meanwhile, Dean was a mechanic who made prom dresses.

He really didn’t know how he’d lasted this long.

But just because he didn’t feel like he was on their level didn’t mean he was about to give up. No, he’d made it this far, and if he was going to lose, he was going to lose while doing the best work he could, not the travesty of last week.

Plus, he had another 200 dollar bet riding on making it to the final three.

He was pinning leather pattern pieces carefully to the dress form when Charlie started tugging him insistently toward the break room, and as usual, Castiel and Kevin were quick to join them. There were trays of hot pasta sitting out waiting for them, along with some veggies; Dean grabbed some of the fettuccini and nearly bypassed the veggies until he remembered that there was a camera right there and his mother might see this. He reluctantly took a couple spoonfuls of the vegetables, just in case, before he plopped down on the couch.

“It’s like…awkward city out there,” Charlie mumbled as she poked at her spaghetti, and Kevin snorted.

“You’re telling me. I was afraid she was going to strangle me with the tape measure.”

“I don’t know, I’m having a pretty good time,” Dean said with a cheeky grin, and Charlie smacked him on the shoulder.

“You shut up, not all of us can feel up our boyfriend and call it part of the challenge.”

“He’s…” Dean started, but then the words died in his mouth, because…well, this was the point where up until now, he would’ve insisted that Castiel wasn’t his boyfriend. But could he say that now? Sure, they had kind of a…thing going on, but could he call Castiel his ‘boyfriend’? He hated that word anyway. It sounded like a term he would use in high school.

And then he realized that everyone was staring at him.

“Oh my god, did you guys actually get over your emotional constipation?” Charlie asked, her face lighting up as she looked between the two of them. Dean was sure his face was probably about the same shade of red that Castiel’s currently was. 

“Well, I mean...it’s nothing, you know, official. We just…”

“We’re just seeing how things go,” Castiel said, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah. What he said. I mean, it’s not a great time to be calling anything official anyway, cause the competition…”

Kevin rolled his eyes and looked at Castiel. “Tell your boyfriend to shut up and eat his pasta,” he said, and Charlie nearly choked on her pasta from laughter.

At least their embarrassment and the ensuing teasing seemed to lighten things up for Kevin and Charlie, who’d both been stressed about the challenge, considering the extra hardship of working with Meg and Ruby as partners. By the time they finished their meal and returned to their workstations, everyone seemed to be feeling more optimistic, and it was easier to fall back into the progress on the garment.

Dean was being extra careful about the shape of the jacket. It had to have the perfect taper to it, from the broad shoulders down to a slim waistline; he even made Castiel stand still and held the pinned pattern pieces against him to see how the general shape looked. Only when he was fully satisfied did he start carefully chalking in where he wanted the decorative seaming across the shoulders and partway down the front of the jacket, along with a couple decorative straps, one on each shoulder.

He was almost ready to head to the sewing machine when the door opened, and he wasn’t surprised to see Tim come in. “Hello, designers,” he said, looking around the room with a smile. “I’ll just be stopping by to see how each of you are doing, keep working.”

As usual, he started with Dean’s workstation. Dean sat down on his stool, giving Tim room to examine the work he’d done so far.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for you to have a chance to do some work with leather. You had excellent leather work in your portfolio,” he said, stepping to the table and eyeing Dean’s sketch. “The concept is great. But do you think you have time to finish the leather jacket and these other pieces as well?”

“I think so,” Dean said, fiddling with the chalk pencil. “The other two pieces aren’t complex. As long as I leave enough time, I’m not expecting problems with them.”

“Which brings me to my other concern,” Tim said, and Dean’s breath caught. Uh oh. “The shirt and pants are nothing spectacular. They’re very…mainstream. Which will work if the jacket is outstanding, but if the jacket can’t carry the outfit, the judges aren’t going to think there’s anything special about this.”

“I know. The jacket is going to have a ton of detailing. The chalk lines here and here are seam work, and there are going to be straps here on the shoulders,” Dean explained, pointing at the chalk lines he’d made on the leather. Tim studied the work for a few more moments, and then he nodded.

“I don’t need to impress upon you how important it is for you to do well this week. I think you’re on the right track, though,” he finally said. “Carry on, then.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, that lead weight on his shoulders feeling about fifty pounds lighter now. Tim was right- the jacket would have to be perfect in order to justify the pants and shirt being so simple. But he was confident that he could pull this off.

If he got kicked off this show for messing up a leather jacket, of all things, he may as well close shop and become a full time mechanic.

Tim went on to Castiel’s table, and Castiel handed over his sketch, leaning against the table while he waited for the verdict. Dean continued working, but he was also keeping one eye on the rest of the critiques- he wanted to know how the competition was doing, after all.

“It’s very 1940’s. It’s definitely you,” Tim said with a nod. “But you do realize that it’s going to have to be perfectly tailored, given the simplicity of the design?”

Castiel nodded. “I understand. I’ve done plenty of menswear, I can handle it.”

“Good. Because if there’s a single seam out of place, they’re going to see it. That’s the big drawback of a classic design like this.”

Dean was tempted to go over and look at Castiel’s finished sketch. He was curious- 1940’s style classic formal, but not a suit? At least not a full suit- it looked like Castiel might be going for a vest instead of a suit jacket look. And hey, that was fine by him. He already wished the show would let him keep it, because he couldn’t think of a single piece of formalwear he owned that didn’t eventually end up with oil stains on it, somehow.

Tim told Castiel to keep at it, and then he stopped at Charlie’s station, where she was draping fabric carefully and pinning it on the dress form. Luckily for her, the dye job had worked out; the cream fabric now had accents of dark brown, leaving it with an earthy, natural look. And if there was anything Meg would never wear, it would be something earthy.

“I love this fabric. Did you dye it?” Tim asked, and Charlie beamed with pride. 

“Yep! I’m glad it worked out, cause I totally didn’t have a backup plan,” she said, and Tim laughed.

“Good. Well, your sketch looks fantastic. Though I encourage you to keep shape in mind as you work, we don’t want this to look like a shapeless sack.”

Dean paid less attention to the other critiques. From what he heard, Tim was worried that Meg was going to make Charlie look like a hooker (which if she did, Dean would never let Charlie live it down, for sure), Kevin’s was a bit too costumey, and Ruby- well, of course the first thing he mentioned was her poor fabric choice for the jacket. Dean had to bite back a smirk at that.

Once Tim was gone, the workroom fell back into silence, though at least this time it wasn’t the tense silence of earlier. Everyone was working on the garments, and Dean spent a good chunk of his time at the sewing machine, working slow to make sure he didn’t break the needle on the leather. Assembling the basic pieces wasn’t so bad, but changing the stitch settings and doing the decorative seams was tedious, slow work.

At this rate, he might end up having to squeeze the jeans and shirt both in tomorrow. It would be cutting things tight, but he was still sure he could do it.

They eventually broke for dinner, where Charlie moaned about possibly looking like a hooker on the runway- but Kevin wasn’t much better off, considering he was fairly certain Ruby was trying to make him look like some 15-year-old wannabe gangster.

Dean just promised to attempt not to laugh at them. He would probably fail, though.

Then it was back to work. It wasn’t long before Castiel was having Dean pull on the vest over his shirt, and Castiel walked around him pinning the alterations he needed to make, carefully eyeing every seam.

“I suddenly understand how Jessica feels when I fit things on her,” he joked, and Castiel snorted.

“You’re not in a thong, though.”

Dean smirked. “Would you like me to be?”

And oh, seeing that look on Castiel’s face was totally worth getting jabbed with a pin.

By the end of the night, though, Dean was surprised his fingertips weren’t bleeding. His hands ached from spending all day pushing and guiding fabric through the sewing machine, adding and removing pins, and just sewing in general. He was going to need some physical therapy or something after all of this or his hands might never work right again, he was sure of it. He could tell he wasn’t the only one- Charlie had Band-Aids wrapped around her fingers where she’d worn places down to blisters, and Castiel was constantly flexing his hands in and out of fists when he happened to not be using them, which wasn’t often. Only Kevin and the other two girls seemed unfazed, maybe because they did more sewing in fashion school than what Dean, Castiel, or Charlie did as part time designers with other jobs to pay the bills.

“I think my fingers are going to fall off,” Charlie complained as they walked back to the apartments that evening. Dean only had small things to finish on the jacket, but his plan for the morning would be to get the jeans and shirt done first- as much as he would appreciate the view, he didn’t plan on sending Castiel down the runway in just a leather jacket.

“I would offer to massage your hands for you, but that would be one hell of a shitty massage right now,” Dean said, inspecting a place on one finger where the skin was rubbed raw from pressing against fabric as it slid through the machine.

“I should make Kevin do it. He’s not suffering like us. Lucky bitch,” Charlie said, and Kevin laughed. 

“It’s painful now, but trust me, a few more weeks like this and your hands will be able to survive anything,” he pointed out, and somehow, Dean believed him. His hands were probably going to be solid calluses by the end of this.

“How you holdin’ up, Cas?” he asked, and Castiel held up his hands and shrugged.

“No worse than either of you. I just try not to think about it. Just like paper cuts at the bookstore,” he said, and then he winced, just barely. Dean realized he was probably remembering that he didn’t work at the bookstore anymore- that he got fired for this.

Had they not been interrupted by Kevin complaining about pleats, he would have reminded Castiel that Hester offered him a job with her bridal company, even if he didn’t win the competition. But he could also understand if Castiel wouldn’t want to work for another designer; lots of designers would feel like their soul was shriveling up if they had to spend all day creating someone else’s vision and getting little to no credit for their work.

So yeah, he could understand if Castiel was still stressed over not having a job to go back to. He only wished he could do more to help.

* ~~~~~~ *

The next morning, the first thing Dean did was start working on the jeans. 

He hadn’t worked with denim much, but he’d worked with plenty of other materials that were difficult to machine sew. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to get a feel for the fabric and work with it accordingly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel in much the same situation, working on the dress pants for his outfit. He didn’t envy him; menswear was difficult, especially anything even remotely similar to a suit. Everyone knew what a suit should look like, and there was nothing to distract from the seams and the clean lines; if you messed up, everyone would be able to tell.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Dean heard Meg say, and he turned to see her staring at Charlie’s dress form, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Charlie’s dress was beginning to take shape; a wide scoop necked cream colored dress with dark brown splashes of color around the top, probably waiting for a belt to be added, given the lack of tailoring at the waist.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, looking between Meg and the dress. “Problem?” she asked, and Meg huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, problem. It sucks.”

To her credit, Charlie was unfazed by the insult, barely looking up from her work. “Well, they said to make the opposite of what you’d wear, so I figured I’d make something classy and tasteful,” she said, and Dean grinned, barely managing to not laugh- Castiel, though, laughed out loud, obviously not worried about pissing Meg off.

Meg just narrowed her eyes. “You’re lucky that we’re getting judged on this. Otherwise I would send you down that runway in Dean’s dress from the last challenge.”

Dean bristled, but Castiel beat him to it. “I would sooner wear that dress down the runway myself than wear anything with your name on the tag, Meg,” he pointed out, and Meg sneered, turning to walk away- but as she did, Dean heard her mutter ‘of course the fag would wear a dress’.

Hell. No.

“What the hell did you just say?” Dean snapped, and he took three steps toward her before hands were grabbing at him, pulling him back; thank god for Castiel and Charlie, because otherwise Dean may have gotten himself kicked off the show for punching a woman in the face.

Meg had turned around, and she smirked. “I didn’t say a thing. Now I’ve got work to do, so piss off,” she said, walking back to her workstation. Castiel and Charlie let go of Dean, though he was still practically vibrating with anger.

“She’s not worth it, Dean. Just let her keep blowing hot air,” Charlie muttered, going back to her dress, but with a noticeably poorer attitude than before. Castiel clasped a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving him a concerned look.

“Are you alright?”

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slow, tempted to shove away the camera that was, as usual, right up in all the action. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s just get back to work so I don’t get arrested for hitting someone over the head with a sewing machine.”

* ~~~~~~ *

The fittings weren’t as embarrassing- or as arousing- as Dean had dreaded. They put up a screen for the designers to change behind, assuming (rightly) that they wouldn’t be as comfortable being on television in their underwear as the professional models were. So, both fortunately and unfortunately, Castiel changed into the mostly done shirt and jeans behind the screen before coming out to Dean’s workstation.

“I love this fabric,” Castiel said, eyeing the green pattern on the shirt as Dean set to work tugging the cloth into place and pinning the parts that needed altering. “You have a good eye for color.”

Dean snorted, taking the pin out of his mouth and carefully pinning in the side seam a bit more- Castiel’s waist was smaller than he thought. “Well, I would hope so, being a designer and all.”

“So is Sarah, but do remember the orange and pink duct taped monstrosity in the prom challenge?” 

“Point taken. Here, get the shirt out of the way so I can work on the waistband,” Dean said, meaning for Castiel to simply hold the bottom hem of the shirt out of the way- but evidently Castiel took it as ‘remove the shirt entirely’.

At first glance with clothes on, someone might take Castiel for scrawny or skinny. But neither was true; no, underneath the loose button-ups and the dress pants that did nothing for his ass, Castiel was hiding a lean but slender body, all tight muscle that practically screamed of mornings spent taking runs through the city. And since Dean had underestimated how much the waist needed to be taken in, the jeans were slung lower on his hips than usual, revealing the perfect ‘V’ shape of his hips that Dean really wanted to mark up with some hickeys.

“…Dean?”

Dean snapped out of it at Castiel’s inquisitive look, and he shook his head as if to try and clear it of the nearly intoxicating thoughts. “Yeah, uh…sorry. Measurements. Right,” he stuttered, grabbing a few more pins out of the box on his table. He could hear Charlie snickering from behind her dress form, but in his defense, he wasn’t the only one practically drooling; over Castiel’s shoulder he could see Meg blatantly drinking in the sight between cuts of her scissors, and Ruby’s cheeks had a hint of red as she desperately tried to look like she wasn’t stealing glances. And when Dean pinned up the back of the waistband, he couldn’t say he blamed them; Castiel’s back was all lean muscle, and Dean fought another insistent set of mental pictures of how those muscles would twitch as he kissed his way down Castiel’s spine.

…Yeah, he needed Castiel to get dressed pretty soon here, because otherwise the rating of this show was going to take a boner-induced leap.

Meanwhile, Castiel was oblivious to the effect he was having on nearly every-fucking-one else in the goddamn room, and it wasn’t fair, damnit.

“Alright. All finished. You can take them off now,” Dean said, and then he realized how his words sounded. “I mean, not right here, you know. Behind the, uh. Behind the screen.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m aware,” he said, seeming amused by Dean’s flustered muttering. Dean would have breathed a sigh of relief when Castiel walked away to go change, but honestly, he was going to miss that sight.

“I said it the first day, and I’ll say it again; if I were straight, I would bang that ass like a screen door in a hurricane,” Charlie said with a smile and a teasing wink, and Dean shot her a halfhearted glare.

Unfortunately, when Castiel needed to fit his own outfit, Dean had no such excuse to remove pieces of it to try and get Castiel all flustered. But he was happy to see that the garments were already near to perfection in their size, and well on their way to perfectly tailored- with all luck, Dean had the feeling he was going to look like he was wearing a 3000 dollar suit and not a 200 dollar two day project.

When Tim came in again, he wasn’t alone- their models were with him, and until then Dean had forgotten that Tim said they were going to come give them tips on walking the runway. Jessica and Emi were cheerful and excited as they dragged Dean and Castiel to one side of the room, but Dean wasn’t fooled- he knew they were just ecstatic to watch all the designers completely fail at any kind of walk resembling a ‘model walk’.

“Is this really necessary?” Castiel asked, his head ducked- it looked like the last thing he wanted to do was walk a runway, let alone try to perfect some kind of special walk to do it.

“Aw, come on, it’ll be fun!” Jessica said, pulling her curly hair up into a messy ponytail to get it out of the way. “It’s not like they’ll be scoring you on your walk, anyway.”

“I think we’d all get sent home this week if they graded the walk,” Dean muttered, glancing over to the other designer teams, who were also listening to lectures from their models. 

“The walk part is easy for guys. Don’t slouch, keep your shoulders back and your chin up, and don’t walk too fast. Or too slow,” Emi explained, soft spoken and a hint of an accent to her words. “At the end of the runway, all you have to do is the pose and turn.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Dean said, but of course there was more to it, as Jessica demonstrated. 

“You guys get to do a more casual turn at the end of the runway,” she said as she walked across the room and then went into ‘model mode’ walking back. When she got to them, she stopped and struck a casual pose, and then did a sort of two-step turn around before walking back.

“And keep your eyes toward the camera at the end of the runway. No peeking at the judges,” Emi added.

“You make it sound so simple,” Castiel muttered, but he looked about as excited about it as Dean did- which was not at all. 

“Stop stalling. Go on, give it a shot,” Jessica said, giving Dean a push. He grimaced and considered trying to stall some more or at least make Castiel go first, but he would have to do it eventually- he may as well get it over with.

He tried to walk normally, or at least casually, but kept his head up and shoulders back, like Emi suggested; when he got to the end, he had no idea what Jessica had done with the whole two-step thing, so he just did a stop and turn around that felt natural before walking back. He could see Jessica grinning behind her hand, desperately trying not to laugh, and Castiel wasn’t in much better shape; Emi, at least, did a decent job of not looking amused at his efforts.

“Go ahead, laugh, I know you want to,” he muttered, and Jessica shook her head. 

“No, no, it’s not that. You did fine. I just…”

“Just what?”

“Didn’t realize how bow-legged you are until just now?” she said, and then she laughed. “It’s okay, some designers go for that kind of thing. Especially if they’ve got, you know…denim and stuff in their line.”

Dean gave her a look. “You mean Western stuff.”

“I think you did fine,” Castiel said softly, and Emi actually laughed at that.

“You’re biased.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, can we get off the whole stuff I can’t change and on to stuff I can?” he asked, though he knew it was all lighthearted teasing. Besides, he got enough teasing in high school about it that he was pretty much immune by now.

“Just hold the pose longer at the end,” Jessica suggested, and then she pointed to Castiel. “Your turn.”

“Wait!” Emi said, running over to Dean’s dress form and pulling the mostly finished leather jacket off it. She returned and held it out to Castiel. “If you’re going to walk with a jacket, you need to practice with it too.”

“You should probably take it off at the end of the runway when you pose. Sling it over your shoulder before you walk back,” Jessica said, and Dean grinned.

“Yeah, do a strip tease, Cas,” he said, and he earned a smack to the shoulder in return before Castiel pulled on the jacket.

And damn, Dean wanted to pat himself on the back, because that was a fine looking jacket on an even finer man.

Castiel’s ‘walk’ needed more work than his, mainly because, as Jessica put it, he still walked for a suit and tie show when he needed more swagger for the outfit he was modeling. Of course he looked a bit lost at the idea of putting ‘swagger’ into his walk, so it was a little bit of a lost cause, but they tried anyway. It took a few tries for him to get the exact way that you were supposed to remove a jacket on the runway, but once he got that down, he at least looked passable as a model- and his good looks did the rest, Dean liked to think.

They didn’t get much time with their models, which was both a blessing and a curse- a blessing because they all desperately needed to finish their garments, and a curse because they all could’ve used more work on their walks, except for Charlie. Charlie took to the theatrics of modeling like a fish to water, and spent most of her lesson cracking up everyone else with her exaggerated ‘fashion poses’.

For once, Dean wasn’t all that rushed. He finished the pants and shirt, picked out a belt and set it aside to go with the jeans, and then he settled in for the last hour or so to finish the seams on the jacket. By the time he finished for the night, he only had a tiny amount of seam work and buffing up with the steel wool to finish in the morning. Castiel was eyeing every single thread on his work, or at least it seemed that way. The only ones who were obviously behind where they wanted to be were Ruby and Kevin.

While Dean felt bad for Kevin, it couldn’t quite squash the happy feeling at knowing he’d done a damn good job on this challenge. He’d (literally) worked the skin off his fingertips to make that jacket perfect, and not in the least due to the fact that he was making it for his- boyfriend? Potential boyfriend?

He could worry about that later. Right now, all of them needed some sleep- after all, tomorrow they would be playing the part of designer and model.

* ~~~~~~ *

There was only one thing more difficult than finishing a garment while sending a model off to hair and makeup- and that was finishing up a garment between your own trips to hair and makeup on another designer who also had to make trips to hair and makeup while trying to finish their garment that happened to be on you.

The peaceful feeling of the night before was coming back at them tenfold as they tried to work around the extra duties in a way that wouldn’t screw over their partner. Luckily for Dean and Castiel (and Kevin), hair and makeup for the guys was a much less involved process; though they refused Dean’s request to not get makeup done, because evidently the guys had to at least have foundation on for the runway.

He felt like a painted whore.

By the time Tim called the ten minute warning, Castiel was trimming loose threads off the hem of Dean’s vest at the same time that Dean was tugging the leather jacket onto Castiel and doing a last minute check of the fit. It was kind of like a frantic striptease in reverse.

“Oh my god,” Dean heard Charlie say with a tone of horror, and he glanced over to see her studying herself in the full-length mirror. Meg had put her in a structured bright red mini-dress with one shoulder strap, and the dress just barely covered her ass. If she leaned over, the judges would get one hell of a show; in fact, since the runway was elevated, they might get one anyway.

“Well…to be fair, it is the opposite of anything you would ever wear,” Castiel pointed out, and Charlie buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“Not helping, Cas,” she moaned miserably, and Meg stalked over and tugged her hands down from her face.

“Don’t mess up your makeup. And stop being such a prude, you look fine,” she snapped, but Charlie only pouted. 

Meg herself actually looked…gentler than usual. She was in the wispy, loose fitting scoop necked dress Charlie made, her hair was down and style in light waves, and her makeup was more subdued than usual. She didn’t look as much like a raging hell bitch as usual, though he could tell it was just under the surface, ready to sink its claws into the first unfortunate person to piss her off.

Dean glanced over Castiel’s shoulder at Kevin and Ruby, and he winced. “Well, Meg won’t be going home today,” he said, and Castiel looked to see what he meant. Ruby was in a two-piece button up and skirt outfit, and despite Kevin playing with different textures, Ruby’s outfit still practically screamed ‘schoolgirl’. Meanwhile, Kevin was in ill-fitting jeans and a loose shirt, all under the most ill fitting, cheap looking faux leather jacket that Dean had seen in his life.

Even if she sprang for the real thing from the start, he didn’t think that outfit could have been saved.

“Alright, designer models! Let’s head down to the runway!” Tim called out, and Castiel and Dean both gave each other one last look over. Castiel looked proud, and he had good reason to be; the black dress pants fit Dean perfectly, every seam straight and every thread neatly trimmed, and the black vest was tailored perfectly to his shoulders and waist. The white button up was classic but done with an expert touch, and the look was finished off with a silk bow tie with a subdued, classy checkered pattern. Dean felt like a gangster, really.

The PAs led them down a different path than usual, lining the six designers up in the hallway just behind the runway.

“Alright, you guys know what to do with the walk. I want you to wait five seconds between designers, alright? When Meg gets back, Dean, wait five seconds before you step behind the screen. Remember to pose behind the screen, nothing fancy, it’s just a silhouette shot,” one of the PAs said, lining them up in order- Meg, Dean, Kevin, Charlie, Ruby, then Castiel. “And remember not to look at the judges. You’re a model for the next ten minutes, got it?”

At least Dean felt more like a model than he had yesterday, but that was thanks to the fact that he was dressed like a million dollars. Thank god he’d gotten Castiel as a partner and not Ruby. Or Meg.

“Who’s the guest judge?” Ruby asked, but the PA just told them to go on ice as the lights dimmed through the doorway to the main runway room.

The soft placeholder music started, and after a few seconds, the PA motioned for Meg to go.

Dean had the feeling Meg would be a natural at acting like a model; she already thought she was God’s gift to the fashion world, so it would only be natural for that to extend to the modeling side of it. He shifted his weight nervously as he waited for her to return, and damn, that runway must be longer than he remembered, because this felt like an agonizingly long wait.

Then Meg came through the doorway with a smirk, and Dean took a deep breath as he counted to five in his head, and then stepped through the doorway onto the platform behind the screen.

He didn’t do anything fancy with the pose, that was for sure; hands in pockets, shoulder wide stance, a short pause, and then he stepped around it onto the runway. The first thing he noticed was the light; the runway was lit up incredibly bright for the show, and it felt like every single light in the room was focused on that one path, like a magnifying glass over an ant mound. He could already feel himself start to sweat as he took the first few steps down the runway, having to make a conscious effort not to look over at the judges.

He could see the guest judge from the corner of his eye, though- and it was no guest at all. Tim Gunn was sitting in the guest judge chair, and that was probably the most fitting judge for this challenge. Who else would know better whether they’d done the antithesis of their partner’s usual style than Tim, who saw their usual styles every day?

He forced himself to focus on the speed of his walk, and the camera at the end of the runway. He counted it as a small miracle that when he got to the end he remembered to stop and pose for the proper length of time, and then didn’t trip and fall on his face doing that little two step turn thing that Jessica showed him.

He had a whole lot more respect for the models now; this wasn’t as easy as they made it look.

He breathed a sigh of relief and his shoulders slumped as he finally walked around the screen and back into the hallway, and Kevin gave him a slightly terrified look in the few moments he had before a PA was pushing him through the doorway. The poor kid looked like a gazelle in a lion exhibit, and it would have been funnier if Dean didn’t know exactly how he felt.

As it was, he couldn’t even offer the kid a word of encouragement, since the PAs were shooting dirty looks at anyone who even looked like they were considering speaking out loud.

One by one, the designers took their walk down the runway, and no one came back looking mortified or injured, so it seemed that there were no major disasters. When it was Castiel’s turn, Dean drew the ire of the PAs by mouthing ‘knock ‘em out, tiger’ and giving Castiel a wink right before he stepped through the doorway. 

When Castiel returned, he looked relieved more than anything else, and he wasn’t alone; he had the feeling none of the designers would be volunteering to model again anytime soon. The PAs led them into the main room and sat them down in the six designer chairs, and then it was time for the usual torture of sitting there as the judges quietly discussed their notes and jotted new things down on their note cards.

Even though there was one less designer every week, judging never seemed to get any shorter.

Eventually, though, they were called to line up on the runway, standing next to their partner under the lights, which were thankfully less intense than they had been for the show. Gabriel grinned at them like a proud parent from his seat in the judging chair.

“I almost didn’t recognize you guys!” he said, eyes sweeping down the line of designers. “Who knew you cleaned up so well?”

“Yes, now get them lessons on how to put one foot properly in front of the other, and we might have some mall fashion show models on our hands,” Crowley said with a snort, but Gabriel ignored him, moving on to his usual spiel.

“This week, we asked you to create an outfit for a fellow designer that was the opposite of their personal style. You had two days and 200 dollars to pull it off,” he said. “And Charlie, you’re the last person with immunity, which means you can’t go home this week.”

Charlie fist pumped in relief, though she hardly needed to worry about going home with or without immunity, in Dean’s opinion. Her garment was far from the worst.

“You all remember the prizes for winning. The winning designer of season seven will receive $100,000 to start their own line, as well as a year of representation through Top Designer Management Agency. The winner will also get a sewing and design technology suite from Allen Sewing worth $50,000. And you can’t forget the all expenses paid two week trip for two to Paris Fashion Week,” Gabriel explained. “And I hardly need to introduce our guest judge for this week; our very own Tim Gunn!”

The designers clapped, the warmest welcome they’d given a ‘guest’ judge yet, and Tim smiled. “I look forward to being a part of the judging process, and I wish you all the best of luck,” he said, and Gabriel flipped to a new notecard.

“Well, seeing as there’s six of you, from here on out we’ll be talking to all of you about your designs. Starting with Meg,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Charlie. “I gotta admit, Meg, we did tell you to go for the opposite, but you…really went there.”

“It’s constructed beautifully,” Naomi pointed out, though there was a frown on her face. “But it really needs about three inches more in length on it. At least.”

Crowley nodded. “Poor Charlie was quite nearly showing us all the goods there,” he said, and Charlie’s face turned nearly as red as her dress.

“What’s fashion without risks?” Meg asked with a shrug and a sneer. “I was going for red carpet look, anyway.”

“Maybe at the AVN Awards,” Tim said, tapping his pen on his note cards. “I have to agree with them, Meg. A few more inches on the skirt and this would have been a really nice garment. As is, the short length distracts from the structure.”

Meg grumbled, but didn’t argue. Gabriel turned to Charlie, glancing between her and the dress Meg was wearing. “Now this is a change. You almost made Meg into a hippie,” he said, and Tim chuckled.

“The styling goes well. You did a great job choosing hair and makeup that added to the look without distracting from it,” he said, and Naomi leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. 

“Did the fabric come like that, or did you dye it yourself?”

Charlie smiled brightly. “Dyed it myself. They didn’t have anything that looked like what I wanted.”

“Commendable job. I’ve seen some designers who’ve butchered their work trying to dye it themselves,” Crowley pointed out. “Good job on that.”

Dean could practically feel Meg’s resentment like an oppressive cloud in the air, but Charlie could not have cared less. She was busy basking in the praise as Gabriel shifted cards and moved his gaze to Kevin.

“Ruby, did you take this kid’s measurements yourself?” he asked, and Ruby crossed her arms.

“Of course I did.”

Naomi scoffed. “Are you sure you didn’t mix them up with Dean’s measurements? Because I think that jacket was made for someone Dean’s size. It looks like the poor boy is wearing his father’s coat.”

“I cut it too big and didn’t have time to change it,” Ruby said defensively. “I tried to take in the seams quickly, but I had two other garments to finish, too.”

“And those two other garments look like they would have taken you half a day, at most. They’re nothing special,” Crowley pointed out, and Tim sighed.

“I really think your fabric choice was your Achilles heel here, Ruby. Even if this jacket were the correct size, the texture and shine just end up looking cheap under the runway lights.”

“And Kevin,” Gabriel said, turning to the younger designer. “We said opposite, my man, not what they’d wear to a costume party. What gives?”

Kevin rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I wasn’t really going for the schoolgirl look, but I got halfway through and it just sort of…happened. And then I didn’t have enough fabric to change gears.”

“Well, it’s well made, I’ll give you that,” Crowley said. “But it was poor planning on your part.”

Naomi nodded in agreement. “You always have to be careful doing pleats on a skirt that length. It’s far too easy to give it this kind of ‘schoolgirl’ look.”

“Like Crowley said, the pieces are well made,” Tim said with a gentle smile. “So it’s not a total loss.”

That felt like it would be little consolation to Kevin, who nodded and dropped his head as Gabriel shifted in his chair to study Dean. “I can’t believe it, Castiel,” he said, shaking his head. “You turned a mechanic into a playboy millionaire with two days and 200 dollars. I’ll be damned.”

“You took a real risk here, and not in the usual way,” Crowley said, a smirk on his face as he studied the outfit head to toe. Dean kind of felt like a slab of meat on display. “This could have been the most boring thing to walk this runway, but I am amazed at the detail and accuracy in the tailoring of this. We’ve had people fail on menswear with a 350 dollar budget, and here you are, pulling off miracles with less time and half the money.”

Castiel smiled and looked down, acting like he didn’t expect the praise, as usual. He probably didn’t. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m shocked Tim didn’t try to talk you out of this. If I had seen a single unfinished seam or crooked hem, I would have torn you apart on it,” Naomi admitted. “You are either very lucky or very talented.”

“I would say talented,” Tim said with a proud look. “I didn’t try to talk him out of it because I knew of any designer up there, he would be the one who could pull off a meticulous, classic look.”

Dean grinned, because Castiel looked like he was about to implode from praise overload. “Thank you so much,” Castiel said with a relieved smile, and then he gave Dean a grateful look.

“Yeah, the clothes almost make up for the fact that Dean looks like he just jumped off a mechanical bull and walked into a cocktail party,” Gabriel joked, wiggling his eyebrows at Dean. “Speaking of, I have got to say, I want one of those jackets, Dean. They told me you were good with leather, but this? This is impressive.”

“Come here, Castiel,” Naomi said, and everyone stared in surprise for a moment as Castiel hopped down off the runway, meeting Naomi as she strode up to the side of the runway. She proceeded to inspect the jacket closely, running a finger along the decorative seams, and even holding it out to see the inside lining and the clothes underneath. “Well, color me impressed, Winchester. I was so sure you were hiding some awful flaw somewhere in there, because that is a stunning jacket to make in two days,” she said, turning and going back to her seat. Dean offered Castiel a hand, tugging the man back up onto the runway.

“Honestly, I did spend most of my time on the jacket. I kept the rest pretty simple,” he admitted.

“And that was a smart idea. That jacket is a showstopper. Even from here I can see how much work was put into that,” Crowley said, and Dean felt the butterflies in his stomach finally relaxing; his efforts hadn’t been wasted after all. He could practically feel the axe lifting away from his neck, like he was earning forgiveness for last week.

“Honestly, Castiel, you should take a page from this look. It suits you,” Naomi said, and…wow, awkward, because it kind of sounded like she was flirting with him.

Crowley chuckled. “Makes me tingle right where my bathing suit goes,” he said, and there was a long pregnant pause where Dean was pretty sure everyone was thinking exactly what he was thinking- what the fuck, Crowley?

“Well, anyway, this was a stellar runway show, but now we need to deliberate,” Gabriel said to break the silence, ‘shooing’ them away with one hand. “We’ll call you back when we’re ready to announce who’s staying…and who is going home.”

Dean caught Castiel’s eye and smiled as they left the runway, because that was more than he could’ve hoped for- both he and Castiel with glowing reviews of their work. “I wish I could keep this,” he said, tugging lightly at the vest, and Castiel smiled shyly.

“I’ll make you another set once we’re done with the show,” he offered, and Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Only if I can make you a jacket like that to keep.”

“Deal.”

“Was it just me, or did Crowley want to get in your pants?” Charlie asked, catching up with them about the same time Kevin did. Kevin shuddered.

“And Naomi, too. Maybe you shouldn’t dress in leather anymore,” he said, and Dean laughed, pushing open the door to the break room. There were trays of sandwiches and veggies waiting on them- and some wonderful PA had actually stacked a few board games and card games on the table.

Seeing as how Ruby and Meg weren’t interested in games, it ended up being a vicious, bloodthirsty four-person match of Uno. They made it through four games before they were called back for judging, and everyone was ready to throw down the cards because Kevin had a seriously unnatural talent for annihilating everyone at Uno.

“Next time we’re playing strip poker,” Charlie muttered, and Castiel looked so alarmed that Dean had to laugh.

They took their place on the runway, Dean standing so close to Castiel that their shoulders were touching, though he resisted the urge to grab hold of Castiel’s hand; sure, everyone probably knew already, but he would still feel weird being so…blatant. 

“This was one of our fiercest debates in picking a winner yet,” Gabriel said, shuffling his note cards. “But one of you did manage to pull ahead. Charlie…you’re in.”

Charlie smiled and thanked them, and nearly turned to thank her model- until she seemed to remember that it wasn’t Gilda beside her. Gabriel shifted to look at Dean and Castiel. “Castiel…you are also in. And that means Dean is the winner of this challenge!” 

Dean let out a huge sigh of relief as Castiel clamped a hand on his shoulder in congratulations. “That’s a lot damn better than last week,” he said, and Tim laughed.

“Just keep it up. You did admirable work this week. Both of you.”

“And that brings us to our bottom three,” Gabriel said, shuffling his note cards again. “Meg…you’re in. Safe for another week.”

She didn’t thank them. She was probably still mad at them saying her outfit was more appropriate for the porn awards than a red carpet. Dean stiffened a bit when he realized that this meant Kevin was in the bottom two with Ruby- and fuck, he didn’t think Kevin would go home, but that’s what he’d thought about Benny, too.

“Kevin…while your garment was well made, it bored us. It was stereotypical and uninspired,” Gabriel said. “And Ruby, your work was not only ill-fitting, but it had none of your own personal aesthetic in it. None of us would have ever guessed this was your work. It was sloppy.”

Gabriel paused, letting the words hang in the air, and Dean held his breath. He wasn’t a praying man, but at that moment he tossed up a few words to whatever deity might be listening- please, don’t let it be Kevin going home.

“Kevin…you’re in. And that means Ruby, you’re out. I’m sorry,” Gabriel said, though he didn’t really sound all that sorry. Dean let out the breath he’d been holding, and Ruby plastered on a fake smile as she thanked the judges and headed off the runway.

“We’ll see you all tomorrow morning bright and early, designers. Be sure to be on time, because we have a very special guest who has a very tight schedule to keep, and you really don’t want to miss the chance to meet her,” Gabriel said with a grin, as usual leaving the group in suspense as they left the runway. Dean hung back a little and slung an arm around Kevin’s shoulders, pulling him in for a one-armed hug.

“Glad it was you, kid,” he said, and Kevin grinned.

“Yeah, me too.”

Thanks to Charlie’s emphatic insistence, once they’d said goodbye to Ruby and Tim congratulated Dean on the win, the PAs let them change into their normal clothes before they did confessionals. Dean was reluctant to hand over the outfit, but he just reminded himself that one day, he’d get another one just like it- and he’d get a chance to make Castiel his own custom jacket, even better than the one for the challenge.

Dean was first into confessionals, and of course there was the usual recap, going through all his reactions throughout the challenge- but Dean wasn’t surprised when at the end, they dug into the real stuff they wanted to get to like a bulldog with a steak.

“So, you told Charlie and Kevin that you and Castiel are together now?” the producer asked.

Dean couldn’t help but smile, glancing down for a moment. “We’re seeing how things go, that’s all.”

“But what if it comes down to the two of you for the win? Won’t you be mad if he wins over you?”

Dean laughed. “Are you kidding? He deserves this win just as much as anyone else here. Probably more. If he kicks my ass at fashion week, I’ll be ecstatic, because he’s a damn good designer and a damn good person.”

“And you don’t think he’d be upset if you won instead of him?” the producer continued to prod, but Dean was ready for it. He knew the second it got out that he and Castiel were a ‘thing’, they would never let it go.

“No. I know he wouldn’t be upset,” he said, not a hint of doubt in his voice. “No, if I won, he’d be thrilled. In fact, if he wins and I go home, he would probably apologize to me, because…he’s Cas. I think if he were starving he’d still give all his money to some orphan. Dude’s pretty much a saint.”

“You have a lot of faith in him.”

Dean chuckled. “If someone doesn’t have faith in Cas, I would question their sanity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to reference pics (garment reference only, makeup ~~and model~~ not applicable):
> 
> [Castiel](http://imgur.com/ePRUwlj)
> 
> [Charlie](http://imgur.com/LYEcU5a)
> 
> [Dean](http://imgur.com/tswZGiG)
> 
> [Kevin](http://imgur.com/3kevvFo)
> 
> [Meg](http://imgur.com/uoKdMRH)
> 
> [Ruby](http://imgur.com/Zp5UD1M)


	9. Mischief Managed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie spends the whole challenge starstruck, Meg gains the upper hand, and Dean can't resist an opportunity that gets dropped in his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this would've been up two days ago, but two days ago I found out that in all likelihood I'm not getting my job back this fall. So I've been kind of a mess.
> 
> As an apology, I present you with smut. I don't know how well you'll actually like it, as it's the first smut I've published in a fic, but hey, it's the thought that counts, right?
> 
> And just to give you something to look forward to: the next chapter is ridiculous. It's going to be super long with twists and suspense and pretty outfits. So you can look forward to that.
> 
> As per usual, reference pictures of the finished garments are at the end of the chapter

The five remaining designers knew that there was something rather different about this challenge when they got to the runway the next morning and found two rather burly looking bodyguards standing there chatting with Gabriel.

 

Dean sat down in one of the five chairs, eyeing the scene suspiciously. There was only one row of chairs now, with only five designers left, and three of them would be showing at New York Fashion Week. It was just beginning to set in that he had over fifty percent chance of showing a collection at one of the biggest fashion shows in the world to compete for the win- and even if he wasn’t in the final three, he would still get to create a collection and show it.

 

“Those guys don’t look like they work for the show,” Kevin said, and Dean nodded.

 

“Gabriel did say someone important would be here today. Didn’t know they’d be important enough to have their own security,” he said as Gabriel hopped up onto the runway.

 

“Good morning, designers!” Gabriel said with his usual grandiosity, not bothering to wait for the usual grumbled replies. “We have one hell of a challenge for you this time. But you know what? Since I’m not the one you’ll be making the garment for, I’m going to let your client introduce the challenge. British GQ chose her as Woman of the Year in 2013, she’s a crusader for women’s rights, and she’s won multiple awards for her acting through the years. Come on out!”

 

There was movement behind the screen at the front of the runway, and then a slender young woman walked out onto the runway- and Dean immediately recognized her as none other than Emma Watson. Charlie made a noise that would have deafened any dogs in the room, and Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin, giving her a confused look.

 

“Oh my god oh my god!” Charlie squeaked out, and Dean could tell she was fighting to stay in her chair rather than run up to tackle Emma in a hug. Meanwhile, he was pretty sure Castiel was only politely pretending to even know who Emma was.

 

“Designers, welcome Emma Watson to the show!” Gabriel said, and Dean clapped along with the other designers, actually excited about the guest for once- who wouldn’t want to design for Emma Watson? Talk about getting your design out and seen by the masses.

 

“Hello designers,” Emma said with a bright smile. “As you know, when we do a publicity tour for our movies, we end up on a lot of red carpets. And that means I need a lot of outfit choices, considering I would never be able to get away with wearing the same thing twice, as much as I’d like to at times. So, your challenge today is to design a red carpet look for me for a movie premiere in London- and I will be wearing the winning designer’s look to that premiere, so I need you all to do your very best.”

 

Dean’s mind was already racing with ideas. Some designers went their whole career without getting an A-lister to wear their work- and now, they had the chance to do just that before they even technically started in the big leagues.

 

He wasn’t nearly as excited as Charlie, though. He was pretty sure the redhead was going to vibrate right out of her chair.

 

“Here’s the catch, designers,” Gabriel said with a wink. “We’ve been going too easy on you lately. You’ll have until midnight tonight to finish this look, and a budget of 250 dollars.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Meg muttered, and for once Dean could agree with her- a red carpet look for a Hollywood star in one day? It felt like someone grabbed the tension dial in the room and turned it up to eleven. Dean was certain his stomach was now located down in his toes.

 

“I’ll give you a couple of hints; I’m fond of neutral colors, like black and white, and I love classic looks with a twist. So don’t be afraid to push the envelope just a bit,” Emma said. “I wish you all the best of luck, and I will see you here tomorrow afternoon!”

 

Dean was afraid he was going to have to hold Charlie back as they said goodbye to Emma and she left the runway. Charlie gave him a wide-eyed, ecstatic look, sitting on the edge of her seat.

 

“Dean. Dean,” she hissed, bouncing on the edge of the chair. “I’m making a dress for Hermione, Dean. Hermione!”

 

“Well designers, head on upstairs. You’ll have 30 minutes to sketch, and then you’re off to Swatches, so be sure to think carefully,” Gabriel said, and Dean stood, trying to think of what kind of classic look he could twist as they headed for the exit.

 

“So I’m assuming she plays Hermione in the Harry Potter movies?” Castiel asked, and the other four designers gave him incredulous looks.

 

“Um, yeah. What rock have you been living under?” Kevin asked, and Castiel blushed.

 

“I’ve read the books, I just never saw the films…”

 

“When this competition is over, we’re fixing that,” Charlie said. “I don’t care if all of us have to fly back in to New York City and commandeer your apartment, we’re getting you to watch those movies.”

 

“I don’t have a TV.”

 

Meg snorted. “What are you, Amish?”

 

“I prefer to say I’m…intensely frugal,” Castiel muttered, and Dean bit his tongue, because Castiel probably didn’t want him to call attention to his precarious financial situation by chewing Meg out. Dean, of course, knew that Castiel had already been strapped tight on his budget even before losing his job for this; his last concern would be having cable TV. Hell, he might not have an apartment at all for much longer after the show, and that made Dean’s stomach twist into even more uncomfortable knots.

 

“Books are better entertainment anyway,” Charlie said, and Dean smiled at her defense of Castiel.

 

“Yeah, look at it this way, Jerry Springer doesn’t come in book form,” he added, and Castiel did that trademark head tilt, blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

 

“Who?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Tim was waiting for them as they filed in to the workroom, and he looked nearly as excited as the designers were. “It’s a great challenge, isn’t it?” he said, looking them over. “I’m expecting great things from the five of you. Go ahead and get started; you have thirty minutes from now until we leave for Swatches.”

 

Dean went straight to his table, sitting down and opening his sketchpad to stare at the blank page. He needed to impress his client, but he also needed to keep his own personal aesthetic in the design; really good designers didn’t just make carbon copies of what the clients wanted. They took their client’s needs and elevated them using their own ideas and style. That’s why the best designers were so sought after.

 

Emma said she liked neutrals, and Dean loved the color black, so that was an easy way to satisfy that requirement. Maybe he could try to mix textiles to satisfy the combination of classic and modern; he did a quick sketch of a dress that was form fitting to mid-thigh and marked that section as a wool fabric, and then he added a billowing mermaid style skirt from mid-thigh to the floor, marking that section as a shinier fabric, maybe a satin.

 

He got down a few more details before Tim returned to collect them for the trip to Swatches, and he tore the page from his sketchpad and folded it up to carry it along. He watched as Castiel frowned down at his sketch for a few moments longer before doing the same.

 

“You don’t look very happy,” he teased, and Castiel sighed.

 

“I’m not. Just…an off day. Not sure about this design,” he said, and Dean patted him on the shoulder as they took the stairs down to the exit.

 

“You’ll pull off a miracle. You always do.”

 

Castiel didn’t look convinced, but by that time they were climbing into the van with Meg, Charlie, and Kevin, and Dean caught Jo’s eye as she climbed into the van behind them with the other eliminated designers. She managed a smile and a wave before a PA gave her a nasty look, and Dean returned the smile and wave before he got in the van and sat down next to Castiel.

 

“I can’t believe I’m designing a red carpet look for Hermione. None of my friends are going to believe this,” Charlie said, still too excited to sit still.

 

Castiel frowned. “I don’t see how they could be skeptical when you have video footage of it.”

 

“It’s just a figure of speech,” Kevin said with a soft laugh and a fond look in Castiel’s direction. They all seemed to be adjusting to his awkward, stilted knowledge of pop culture and idioms. Well, except for Meg- she seemed more irritated than amused, but that was hardly a surprise. She was going to find any excuse to hate them, especially now that she no longer had her partner in crime to gossip with.

 

“So…when was the last time you guys finished a red carpet look in one day?” Charlie asked with a nervous laugh.

 

“Yeah, try never,” Meg muttered, and Dean shrugged.

 

“At least you guys have done red carpet looks. Not much demand for Hollywood couture in Kansas,” he pointed out, knowing that he was going to have to check at every step of the process to make sure he wasn’t falling into old prom dress habits.

 

The van pulled to a stop in front of Swatches and the designers filed in, PAs quickly lining them up and handing out the envelopes of cash as dog rat thing sat by the desk and stared at Dean. “Now remember designers; you can make or break the entire challenge in the next half hour, so please make smart fabric choices,” Tim said, stressing every word- for this challenge fabric choice was incredibly important, and they knew it. “Your shopping starts…now!”

 

Dean knew exactly what he needed to start with, and he headed straight for the wool fabric. He paced up and down the aisle, studying the blacks and greys until he spotted something with promise- a black wool blended tweed with interlaced white and silver detailing dusted all over. It was a stiff, thick fabric, perfect to carry the weight of the billowy fabric layers he would be using on the bottom half of the dress. He tugged out the bolt and carried it to the nearby cutting counter, checking the price before he asked them to cut six yards.

 

He spent the next ten minutes hunting down a black satin with only a slight shine to it, and then as an afterthought he grabbed a few yards of black chiffon as well, just in case he needed to temper the remaining shine of the satin. He’d just finished throwing the last of the notions he needed into his bag when Tim called time, and he stepped into the line at the register with a sigh of relief.

 

Done shopping on time and just under budget. Not a bad start for a one day challenge.

 

“Alright, let’s get you back to Brighton’s so you can start working,” Tim said, and they were once again herded out to the vans like cattle. Dean noticed that the PAs were rushing them a bit more every time they were outside, and he quickly realized it was probably because the show had started to air. Before it aired, nobody would care about a van of people going into a fabric store; but now, there was the chance they would be recognized, and they didn’t want a single spoiler getting out, despite all the other precautions taken.

 

As soon as they walked into the workroom, Dean checked the clock- 10am. Fourteen hours to finish a red carpet look for a world famous actress.

 

Even as his hands started to work, his brain was telling him that it was impossible.

 

Impossible or not, he couldn’t just sit there and whine about it, and he certainly couldn’t give up. He set to work cutting the pattern pieces from the wool to make the main bodice of the garment, quickly realizing just how stiff the fabric was; it would need the extra weight of the satin in order to keep it from looking unnaturally stiff through the skirt portion.

 

He could see Castiel’s fabric from here, a mix of grey tulle and champagne colored sequin beaded fabric, and for the first time he actually worried about Castiel’s concept. Those materials didn’t look like red carpet materials. Of course, Castiel had proven them all wrong many times before, and Dean had no time to worry about anyone else’s garment when he wasn’t sure if his own would even come together in time; it would all depend on how fast he could create the satin and chiffon ruffles that made up the lower half of the skirt.

 

“I think we all went for black except Kevin and Cas,” Charlie pointed out, and Dean glanced past Charlie to see that Kevin had two fabrics on his table, one a shiny gold, and the other a more matte tan color. Dean wasn’t sure what he planned, but he knew he would never have chosen that combination.

 

Maybe Kevin had a genius idea in mind. The kid had pulled off awesome garments plenty of times before, after all.

 

Dean ignored the sour look that Meg was giving Kevin’s fabric, going back to his own work. He couldn’t afford distractions today- none of them could. The workroom fell silent, only the sounds of scissors and rustling fabric left to hear.

 

*~~~~~~*

 

Dean was in trouble.

 

He knew it before Tim even showed up to do his critiques later in the day. He sat cross-legged on the floor, fingers pinning hems and tugging the satin and chiffon and trying to get it to look even passable, but if there were gods of sewing then they evidently decided Dean was cursed today. The satin simply wasn’t layering the way he wanted the ruffles to, and the hem was puckered- and satin wouldn’t hide mistakes. Not only that, but he’d slowly realized that his combination of the wool and satin put together in this garment just…wasn’t working. And he hadn’t done anything more than a rough cutout of the wool part of the dress; he still needed to finish that entirely.

 

He heard the door swing open and he peeked under the workbench to see Tim’s shoes. “Hello, designers,” Tim said, his usual greeting, though he barely got mumbles in reply. He laughed. “Well, that’s an encouraging response. I’ll come around to see your work, just carry on.”

 

As usual, Dean’s was the first station he stopped at. Dean pushed himself to his feet and stepped back as Tim stared at the dress form, eyes scanning it from top to bottom.

 

Dean knew he was in trouble when Tim didn’t say anything for a long few moments.

 

“That bad, huh?” he asked with a nervous chuckle, and Tim hesitated.

 

“May I be frank with you, Dean?”

 

“Absolutely. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Saving us from ourselves, all that jazz.”

 

Tim sighed. “It looks like you’re trying to Frankenstein two completely different dresses together. The shape is nice, but the satin for the ruffles just looks…”

 

“Cheap,” Dean finished for him, and Tim nodded, still frowning.

 

“The satin troubles me. I really encourage you to step back and rethink this design to minimize the amount of satin you need to use.”

 

Dean let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Alright. Yeah, I got it. I’ll think of something.”

 

“This is a make it work moment for you,” Tim said with an encouraging smile, clapping his hand on Dean’s shoulder before moving on to Castiel’s station. Dean sat down on his stool, staring at the dress as if waiting on an epiphany to come to him.

 

Unfortunately, it seemed all his epiphanies had run dry.

 

“Castiel, this looks…interesting,” Tim was saying to Castiel, who straightened up from where he had been bent over some tulle.

 

“I have the feeling you don’t mean interesting in the most flattering light,” he said as Tim walked around his dress form. Dean winced a little when he glanced over- Castiel was doing a form fitting bodice in the champagne colored fabric with sequin beading, and a full skirt made out of ragged tiers of the crinoline.

 

It looked great…if he was making it for a middle school prom.

 

“It’s reading very…young,” Tim said, as if he were reading Dean’s mind. “I don’t see the sophistication in this for a red carpet.”

 

Castiel stepped back to look from a different angle, but he didn’t look surprised. “Is it the fabric or the shape?” he asked, and Tim laughed.

 

“It’s both. It looks a bit…Disney princess, to me,” Tim said, and Castiel frowned. Dean did too, but not because of the critique- but because he could hear Meg chuckling about it.

 

“I know,” Castiel said with a sigh. “I just…don’t quite know what to do about it. It’s not turning out like I imagined.”

 

“Well, you’ll think of something, I’m sure. But right now, I’m worried.”

 

Castiel continued to stare at the half finished garment as Tim moved on to Charlie’s station, and Dean picked up a yardstick and poked Castiel in the shoulder, giving him an encouraging look. “Hey, at least you and me can drown our sorrows together tonight. Maybe convince them to provide some whiskey.”

 

Castiel smiled, just for a moment, enough that Dean knew he appreciated the support right about now. They both needed it.

 

And apparently Charlie and Kevin did too. Charlie was creating what looked like a very short strapless dress, the full skirt barely hitting mid-thigh, paired with tight black pants. Tim was worried that it was too simple, not enough drama for a red carpet. Kevin’s critique wasn’t any better, as the fabric textures and the colors weren’t working together.

 

And just to rub salt in the wound, Meg was the only one of them that got a good critique. It figured. If they didn’t step it up, it would be one of the four of them going home, leaving Meg to gloat some more.

 

Dean turned his attention back to his own garment. He needed to ditch the satin, but he’d already cut the pattern pieces of the wool dress and pinned them together; he didn’t have the time or the extra fabric to do something else with the wool.

 

Maybe something small. Without the satin, he had a sleeveless, V-neck short wool dress, and he had small amounts of the wool left over. Maybe if he just pumped this up with details, he could get away with not using any of the satin at all.

 

He glanced over at his table, where he had the leftover fabric and the notions, and his eyes fell on the zipper. He’s been planning to install it down the back of the dress, but…what if he put it right down the front? He could have the front zip up, have some pockets and maybe even a hood- he might be able to turn this into more street chic formal. Sure, it wouldn’t have red carpet elegance, but it would be different and it would make a statement.

 

Hopefully the right statement.

 

He got back to work, grabbing the extra fabric and carefully chalking the pattern lines onto it, making sure he had enough to add pockets and a hood; it was close, but there was enough. He glanced up at the clock, and his stomach dropped into his feet when he realized it was already almost eight o’clock- he had four hours to turn this rough cut into a polished dress.

 

He had to take a deep breath. He was about to panic, but panicking wouldn’t help anything. He needed to focus.

 

Jessica would be here for a fitting soon. He got to work sewing together the pattern pieces, making the necessary alterations to leave a place for the zipper down the front instead of the back of the dress. He needed to have a solid dress to put on Jessica when she got here, because the last thing he needed was to put the dress on her in the morning only to find out it didn’t fit.

 

By the time she arrived, he was pretty happy with what he had done- enough that he should be able to fit it without any nasty surprises tomorrow. She raised an eyebrow at him as she stripped down, looking at the dress skeptically.

 

“Red carpet?” she said, giving Dean a look, and he laughed.

 

“Don’t ask,” he said, taking the dress off the form and handing it to her. “Fabric screw ups, texture screw ups…you’re lucky you’re wearing that much down the runway.”

 

Dean frowned as she pulled it on, and then he carefully pinned the front in place to simulate how the zipper would hold it together. He looked, backed up a few feet, and looked again- but no, the problem was there from every angle.

 

“I guess I should wear some nice underwear, huh?” she asked with a smirk, and she was right. It was too short; not enough that it was blatantly indecent, but enough that it gave more of a hooker vibe than an actress vibe. He didn’t have any way of fixing it now, though; he had no more fabric, and extending the hem would’ve been a difficult task even if he had all the time in the world to do it. Which he didn’t.

 

“Sorry. You might give the judges a bit of a show,” he said, his heart sinking a little as he started to pin everything else that needed adjusting. This was quickly proving to be a very bad situation, and he felt helpless to slow the downhill roll.

 

“Hey,” Jessica said, and Dean realized that he’d been staring at the same spot on the dress worrying about the whole thing, and it obviously showed on his face. She reached up and grabbed his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “Don’t get freaked out on me. You’ve got this. I can rock a mini, you just make sure you put the best damn finish on this thing that you have time for.”

 

Dean sighed and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks Jess. It’ll be finished, promise.”

 

She kissed him on the cheek and then let him finish pinning the alterations into place, but as usual, they weren’t allowed much time before the models had to leave. Dean glanced at the clock- three hours left in the day.

 

He would just have to make the best of what he had. If he made sure that it was flawlessly made, at least they could only hate the design rather than accuse him of having a poorly made garment as well. And really, he didn’t hate the dress; he thought it was freakin’ awesome, a sporty little hooded mini-dress, but that wasn’t the problem. It was all about the event.

 

By the time they went back to the apartments that night, he had everything major finished. He had the hood and pockets added, bias tape stitched into place, and the zipper installed- all he had left to do was the hem and some final touches, really. He wasn’t worried about not being able to finish for once, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing in this case.

 

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, falling into step next to Castiel as they trailed behind the others down the sidewalk. Castiel sighed and shook his head.

 

“They won’t like it.”

 

“With your tailoring skills, the design is all they’ll be able to go after,” Dean pointed out, because if anyone in this group held the monopoly on flawlessly finishing a garment, it was Castiel. Castiel just shrugged.

 

“At this point in the competition, that may not be enough.”

 

Dean nudged him with an elbow. “Stop psyching yourself out. I’m in the same boat, and you know what? Let’s finish the fuck out of these dresses and at least be able to walk up there with something polished, even if it’s not quite right.”

 

“Aw, Dean, are you giving out motivational speeches? Cause I could use one,” Charlie said, looking over her shoulder.

 

“Sorry, I only give out one per day, and it’s used up now. You’d have to ply me with whiskey for more,” he said, and she just laughed at him.

 

The truth was, Dean didn’t even know if he could believe in his own words. He said it to make Castiel feel better, but on the inside, he was one big tangled ball of panic.

 

*~~~~~~*

 

The workroom was like a confined hurricane the next morning.

 

Castiel was still attaching pieces of tulle to the skirt of his dress, bias tape draped around his neck for finishing up the neckline after. Charlie was having issues with the drape of the shirt-dress on Gilda, the fabric bunching near the skirt in a sort of unflattering way. Kevin was struggling to drape the front of his dress in a way that didn’t look like it was just arbitrarily pinned up, and Meg was down on the floor working on the hem of her gown. Hers was gorgeous, Dean had to admit it- she had a tank top style top made of silver fabric with a delicate sheen to it, while the mermaid style skirt was made of velvet- and normally Dean wouldn’t touch velvet, but he had to admire good workmanship when he saw it, and she had done an amazing job using the fabric and bringing out its natural movement where the skirt flared out at the knees.

 

Dean walked Jessica up to the hair and makeup rooms- for hair, he just wanted a casual updo, nothing so fancy that it would make the dress seem even more odd in comparison. He had the makeup team do a smoky eye and a bright red lip, since the design was simple enough to get away with the pop of color.

 

While she was away he worked on the hem, taking all the time he needed to make it perfect. It was as small a hem as he could manage, since he couldn’t afford to lose any more length on the skirt. His fingers and eyes ached at the tedious, slow work, but it was worth it when he finally zipped up the dress on Jessica and saw that he’d barely managed to keep the skirt at least decent. With all luck, she wouldn’t be flashing the judges, just showing a little too much leg.

 

“I told you that you could do it,” Jessica said with a grin, and then Tim gave them the ten minute warning, and Dean set to work checking every last stitch and cutting all the loose threads he could find.

 

Then it was time for the runway, and Dean couldn’t do anything more. He had to stand by his work, for better or worse.

 

They took their seats in the designer chairs on one side of the runway, and on the other side the judges sat chatting- including Emma Watson, who was having an animated discussion with Gabriel. Charlie grinned, nearly bouncing in her seat once again as she watched her idol from across the runway.

 

Once again, they got to play the waiting game as lights were set up and sound tested. Dean was more than ready to get the show going when Gabriel hopped onto the runway, looking over the designers with a grin.

 

“And then there were five,” he said. “Well, four after tonight. And only three will be moving on to New York Fashion Week, which means…you’ve only got one more challenge.”

 

Dean hadn’t thought about it for the past day; he’d been too stressed about the dress, too focused on staying in the game. But Gabriel was right; they were nearly there.

 

The mechanic from Kansas was two eliminations away from competing for the win. If Dean weren’t actually on the show, he’d claim it was rigged.

 

“You’re all familiar with our prizes this season. First, $100,000 to start your own line, along with a year of representation through Top Designer Management Agency. Not only that, but also a sewing and design technology suite worth $50,000, courtesy of Allen Sewing. And of course, a two week paid vacation for two to Paris to see the magnificent Paris Fashion Week- and maybe show in it, if they like you enough.”

 

He stepped to the side a little so the designers could see the row of judges. “You all know your judges. Fergus Crowley, world-renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency, Naomi Prevot, editor in chief of Eve Magazine, and of course, the charming Emma Watson, star of the Harry Potter movies and champion for feminists the world round.”

 

Emma waved to them, and Charlie waved back so enthusiastically that Emma laughed. “Try not to fall out of your chair,” Dean said to Charlie, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

 

“This week, we asked you to design a red carpet look for Miss Watson to wear at a London premiere. She will wear the winning look to the premiere, and that’s priceless exposure for a starting designer,” Gabriel continued. “So with that, let’s start the show!”

 

 He hopped down and took his seat, and the lights dimmed, the music playing in the background as the first model stepped up behind the screen.

 

It was Charlie’s first. It almost looked like a strapless black jumpsuit with a skirt attached, and really, it wasn’t a bad idea. Unfortunately, Dean was pretty sure that like his, there just wasn’t enough drama to it. Maybe if she’d made the skirt longer with more volume, just shorter in the front…but that was all hindsight, which did no good here.

 

Besides, there was definitely a fit issue with the top part of the outfit. Dean winced a little when Gilda turned and the bunching of fabric near the skirt caught the light.

 

Meg’s was next, and she was pretty much a shoe in for the win. The top shimmered under the lights, and the velvet draped perfectly as the model made her way to the end of the runway and posed. Dean and Kevin shared a look, both of them not thrilled at all that Meg had basically kicked their asses this time.

 

Castiel’s model walked around the screen next, statuesque in her odd beauty. The dress was tailored to perfection, as usual, the champagne sequins catching the light, and the tattered tulle flowing with every movement of the model. It was a gorgeous dress- but it hadn’t pulled out of that ‘prom’ rut. Dean could see the bob in Castiel’s throat as he swallowed hard watching Emi turn and go back down the runway.

 

Jessica took to the runway next. Dean liked the dress- in fact, he would probably tweak it just a little and put a more refined version in his portfolio, because it was damn stylish. But even he knew that it wasn’t red carpet material, not by a long shot. Unless Emma was really into the hoodie dress look, she would probably turn her nose up at this one in a heartbeat.

 

But Kevin…Dean felt bad for him as his model walked down the runway. The bodice was too low and made the model look flat chested, though it emphasized the curve of her waist perfectly. But the shiny skirt ruined any potential; he’d tried to do some gathering of it in the front to give it some edge, but it just looked…messy.

 

Kevin’s model left the runway, the lights came up, the music faded, and the designers were left to worry while the judges’ pencils scratched away on the note cards. Dean saw Charlie chewing nervously on her lip, and he reached over and gave her hand a squeeze, earning a smile in return; they couldn’t talk, but that was as good as saying ‘you’ll be fine’.

 

Finally, they were called up on the runway, Dean between Kevin and Castiel. With only five of them left, all of the models were brought out, standing next to the designers under the hot lights.

 

“Well, that was quite a show!” Gabriel said, straightening his note cards and looking at Kevin. “Kevin, let’s start with you. What was the idea behind this dress?”

 

“Well, Emma said she likes neutrals, so I kind of wanted to take that concept and…amp it up,” Kevin explained, gesturing to the skirt. “I was trying to mix matte and shine to, you know…breath some life into it.”

 

“Your intentions were good, but the execution was flawed,” Naomi said, shaking her head. “These colors do not compliment each other well. And the skirt looks cheap under the lights.”

 

“I don’t think that’s the fabric, I think that’s the amateur job of draping done on the front there,” Crowley pointed out. “It looks like you just grabbed a handful, yanked it up, and pinned it right before she walked the runway.”

 

Kevin sighed. “Yeah, I…I wasn’t planning to do the gathering at the front, so when I decided to try, the fabric just didn’t have the right give for it.”

 

“I appreciate the thought behind this. I know what you were going for, and I’m sure I would have loved it if it turned out as you originally planned,” Emma said, and Dean was kind of thankful that she was one of those judges who could tell you how bad your work is while complimenting you at the same time. Kevin thanked her, and Gabriel shifted in his seat to look at Charlie.

 

“So, was the inspiration Catwoman? Cause I see it,” he said, and Charlie laughed and covered her face.

 

“Oh my god, now I’m not going to be able to unsee it,” she moaned.

 

“The fit got a bit knackered around the waist, didn’t it?” Crowley asked, squinting at Gilda, and Charlie nodded.

 

“Yeah, the skirt made it pull kinda funny, and I tried to even it out, but…ran out of time.”

 

“You and Kevin are in the same club, Charlie. A nice enough concept, but poorly executed,” Naomi pointed out. “Though I don’t know if it fits your client’s personal style.”

 

“Well, I did tell them to not be afraid to push the envelope, and she does have something up here not like anyone else’s,” Emma pointed out, smiling up at Charlie. “I do appreciate the vision, and the guts to go for something a little more unconventional.”

 

Dean thought Charlie might faint at the praise. Luckily, though, she managed to stay on her feet.

 

Then, it was Meg’s turn. Gabriel smirked at her, tapping his pencil on his note cards. “I’m impressed, Meg. This is a hot little number.”

 

“Indeed. I love how you balanced out the drama of the skirt to the simplicity of the top, without losing out on boring textures,” Crowley said, and Meg grinned.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“The finish is wonderful on this. You’ve really fit this well to your model,” Naomi added, and Emma nodded.

 

“It’s a gorgeous dress. I can see this kind of thing ending up on the best dressed list. Really good job.”

 

Dean felt a little sick at Meg getting such high praise. Not that she didn’t deserve it…but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy hearing it.

 

“Dean. Jessica nearly gave us a Victoria’s Secret show instead of a design show,” Gabriel said, wiggling his eyebrows at them.

 

“I originally planned a floor length gown, but the other fabric didn’t work out,” Dean explained with a shrug. “I improvised.”

 

“I can tell,” Naomi said dryly. “This looks more like an outfit for clubbing than a red carpet.”

 

“That said, I would wear this out clubbing in a heartbeat,” Emma broke in. “It’s really, really cool. It’s not red carpet, no, but I would love to have this dress for nights on the town. It’s a great mix of casual and fashion forward.”

 

Dean couldn’t help but smile- hell, he was getting praise from Emma Watson. Anyone would smile at that.  “Thank you.”

 

Crowley snorted. “All well and good, but it missed the mark for this challenge. I’ll give you points for originality, though.”

 

Finally, Gabriel looked up at Castiel. “You know, maybe if she were doing the red carpet premieres for Beauty and the Beast, she could have gone in this direction. Unfortunately, you missed that film by a couple years.”

 

“It’s a prom dress, plain and simple,” Naomi said, giving it a disdainful look. “If she were 15, I would put her in this dress for a premiere.”

 

Castiel nodded, his shoulders slumping the slightest bit. “I don’t disagree. It didn’t turn out quite how I envisioned,” he said, and Emi put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“It really is a gorgeous dress. If it were adjusted to look a little more mature, it could have been perfect,” Emma pointed out. “And from what I can tell, the tailoring is impeccable. This couldn’t have been easy to finish in one day.”

 

Gabriel chuckled. “That’s our Castiel. He’s nothing if not impeccable,” he joked. “Alright, designers, we need to deliberate. You can leave the runway, and we’ll call you back to let you know who’s staying…and who’s going home.”

 

They all filed off the runway, heading toward the break room where PAs had set up salad and sandwiches for them; this time, Dean ignored the salad and went straight for the sandwiches. He needed the boost right now. He sat down around the coffee table with Charlie, Kevin, and Castiel, and only then did it hit him.

 

One of the four of them would be going home today, because it wouldn’t be Meg.

 

The mood was somber as everyone ate their sandwiches. There wasn’t much talking, and no lighthearted card games; Meg didn’t want to socialize, obviously, and the rest of them were busy worrying. There wasn’t much more they could do until they heard back from the judges.

 

It was a long, tense wait.

 

By the time they were finally called back, Dean was more than ready for the tension to break. He took his spot between Castiel and Kevin, drumming his fingers on his leg anxiously as everyone got into place.

 

“Well, designers, I think we’ll start out with the winner of this challenge, since it was a unanimous decision…Meg, you are the winner of our challenge,” Gabriel said brightly. “Emma Watson will be wearing your dress to a movie premiere in London. Congratulations.”

 

“I’m so excited to wear this dress,” Emma added, and Meg seemed genuinely happy and excited. It was a rare sight.

 

“Castiel…you’re safe and will be moving on to the next challenge,” Gabriel said, and Castiel sighed with relief.

 

“Thank you so much.”

 

Dean shifted his weight again. Him, Charlie, and Kevin. One of them was going home.

 

“Dean…you are also safe. Congratulations,” Gabriel said, and it was like someone had lifted a lead weight off his shoulders.

 

“Thank you,” he said, glad that his fabric mistake hadn’t cost him the whole competition. Gabriel paused for a few moments, and a new sense of dread came over Dean as the judges focused in on Kevin and Charlie.

 

“Charlie, Kevin…both of you suffered from the same problem this week. You had an idea, one that had potential, but you fell flat on the execution,” Gabriel said. “Kevin, your tailoring had some issues. And Charlie, while your idea was unique, it was lacking drama.”

 

Another long pause. Too long. Dean hated these moments that were just there to milk the suspense.

 

“Kevin…I’m sorry, but you’re out,” Gabriel said, and Dean saw Kevin’s head drop at the same time he heard Charlie sob with relief. Kevin nodded.

 

“Thank you for the opportunity,” he said, the smile on his face obviously forced through the disappointment. “I’m proud to have gotten as far as I did.”

 

Dean swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. He knew it would happen eventually, that his best friends here would someday get sent home, but that didn’t make it any easier. He stepped over and pulled Kevin into a hug, even before they left the runway.

 

“You’re dismissed, designers. I will see you in the morning for your biggest challenge yet,” Gabriel said, and Dean kept an arm around Kevin’s shoulders as they left the runway. Kevin was doing a good job of fighting back tears, just like Dean, but all that effort was worthless when Tim walked in the break room with tears in his eyes.

 

“Kevin,” Tim said, holding out his arms and pulling Kevin in to a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. You’re all so talented, but it had to be someone.”

 

“I know,” Kevin said, sniffling and smiling at Tim. “I’m okay, really.”

 

“Well, I hate to say this, but I need to send you upstairs to clean out your space.”

 

Kevin didn’t have an easy time getting out of the room. Everyone except Meg wanted a hug, Castiel looked devastated, and Charlie was wiping tears off her face. Dean hated watching Kevin walk out the door, hated that even as he felt awful that Kevin was leaving, he was relieved at the same time that it hadn’t been him. Or Castiel.

 

And now, they all got to sit in silence again while they were cycled for confessionals. The only good thing about confessionals is that they were taking significantly shorter amounts of time as there were less and less people to get through.

 

Dean’s confessional was nothing new or exciting. They asked him to recap the challenge, like usual, asked him to talk about his struggles with the fabric, his opinions on the other designers’ work, and who he thought would go to the final three.

 

He told them the only one he was sure about was Castiel. If Castiel didn’t make it to Fashion Week, the judges were blind.

 

One of the last things the producer asked, though, was if Dean was going to enjoy being in an empty apartment with Castiel now. Dean managed to make a comment about privacy being hard to enjoy when there were cameramen constantly in your face, but at the same time, his mind had screeched to a halt.

 

He would be alone in the apartment with Castiel.

 

And he just might have an idea that would negate that camera problem, for a short amount of time.

 

After confessionals, when the PAs and cameramen weren’t paying attention, Dean whispered to Castiel to only pretend to go to sleep long enough for the camera guys to pack up for the night and leave. Castiel raised an eyebrow at him curiously, but he didn’t argue.

 

Maybe, just maybe, they could share a little time together tonight that wouldn’t be broadcast to the masses.

 

*~~~~~~*

 

Dean was half convinced that his ploy wouldn’t work. That the cameramen would  know he was faking sleep, or that they had motion sensors in the apartment or something. But not long after he settled in for the night- or so they thought- he heard the shuffle of camera equipment being packed away, footsteps, and then the soft click of the apartment door being shut.

 

He waited a couple of minutes longer just in case, and it almost felt like his teenage years all over again, waiting until he knew both mom and dad were asleep so he could sneak out the window to go have a couple beers with friends and feel like a rebel. A couple of beers would have been nice, too, but that was hardly at the forefront of his mind right now.

 

Once he was sure it was safe, he kicked away the blankets and got up, feet padding silently on the cold floor as he made his way out of the bedroom and across the dimly lit common area to Castiel’s room. The door was already partially open, and he blinked a few times as he slipped inside, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room.

 

He didn’t make it two steps inside before Castiel was on him, kissing him hard enough to push him back against the wall, hands gripping his hips tightly. Dean laughed into the kiss but returned it with equal fervor, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s slender waist and pulling him in close.

 

With no space between them and only a thin barrier of pajamas, he could tell that they were on the same page about using what little time they had tonight before the cameras were once again watching them every waking moment.

 

Dean only broke the kiss when they both needed to breathe, because somehow they’d both managed to forget how to kiss and breathe at the same time, and hell if it hadn’t been a long time since Dean got that caught up in the pregame action. He set his forehead against Castiel’s, barely able to see blue eyes and dark hair in the dim lights of the city that filtered through the blinds. From what he could see, though, Castiel looked nervous.

 

“Okay?” he asked, though he meant for it to come out ‘are you okay’, which didn’t quite work with his mind focused elsewhere. Castiel nodded, just barely.

 

“I…haven’t really done this before.”

 

Dean drew back a little in surprise. “…at all?”

 

He was sure Castiel was blushing, even if he couldn’t really see it. “I mean, I…I’ve messed around some, but never…you know,” Castiel said, uncertainty showing through as he met Dean’s eyes again, as if he expected Dean to call the whole thing off because of that.

 

Hardly. He was busy not coming in his pants at the idea of being the first to show Castiel just how good this could feel.

 

He spun them around to pin Castiel to the wall, pushing his thigh between Castiel’s legs and pressing up with a smirk. Castiel dropped his head back against the wall with a ragged groan, and Dean took the opportunity to kiss his way down that flawless expanse of his throat, down to his collarbone.

 

“I’ve got you, Cas,” he said, surprised at how rough his own voice sounded as he felt Castiel grinding forward against his leg.

 

Somehow, they made it to the bed. They both managed to lose their shirts along the way, and then Dean pushed Castiel back on the bed, kneeling at the end of it and just taking a moment to admire the view; Castiel sprawled on the bed, legs parted, hair askew and light marks from Dean’s lips and teeth already starting to show up on his throat.

 

“You going to just stare until the cameras get back?” Castiel asked with an arched brow, and Dean let out a noise that was almost a growl as he dove forward. He pushed Castiel’s legs farther apart and settled between them, dragging a sharp breath from himself and a moan from Castiel as the hard lines of their arousal met with only boxers between.

 

He could have gotten off just like that, rolling his hips down against Castiel’s and watching the other man fall apart underneath him- but no, this was their first time all to themselves, and he was going to cram as much into it as he could before the cameras were back.

 

Before they both had to go home, thousands of miles apart.

 

He didn’t want to think about that right now, though. He held himself up on one arm and with the other he dragged his fingers through Castiel’s hair, a move that made Castiel’s eyes fall shut and a sound that could only be described as a whine escape him as his hips thrust up.

 

“Like that, huh?” Dean asked with a devilish grin, tugging at Castiel’s hair again as he sucked and nibbled right at his pulse point, and this time Castiel actually cried out and his nails dug in to Dean’s back.

 

“Dean, please,” he gasped out, obviously struggling with the words when Dean’s hand was still buried in his hair.

 

“Please what?”

 

If looks could kill, Dean would be dead right now courtesy of the glare that Castiel shot him. “Please stop _teasing_ or I’ll tell the producer in the confessional how badly you suck in bed,” he snapped, and Dean laughed, lifting his head to kiss Castiel slow and deep.

 

“Wouldn’t want my reputation ruined,” he said with a wink, and then he scooted down the bed, settling between Castiel’s legs and tugging his boxers down and off. He hesitated, then, seeing the slight flaw in his plan.

 

“Don’t move. No touching,” he said, scooting backward off the bed and ignoring the frustrated groan he got from Castiel. He practically ran to the kitchen, opening the cabinets that were well stocked with cooking supplies. He spotted what he was looking for, and he grabbed the bottle of olive oil off the shelf (the label proclaimed it ‘extra virgin’ olive oil, and all Dean could think was that it sure as hell wouldn’t be extra virgin by the time he was done with it).

 

He returned to the bedroom and dropped down into the V of Castiel’s legs, and Castiel looked down at him with a frown that was much less effective with that desperate edge to it. “Do I want to know where you went…?” he asked, and Dean responded by wrapping his fingers around Castiel’s cock, starting a frustratingly slow up and down stroke that had Castiel breathless and squirming in moments.

 

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” Dean said, leaning down and taking the head of Castiel’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in apology. And evidently the apology was accepted, if the way Castiel’s hand clutched in his hair was any indication. Dean had his free hand on Castiel’s hip, ready to press down to keep from getting accidentally choked, and he could feel Castiel trembling in an effort to stay still.

 

Dean hadn’t done this much. He’d never been a fan of sucking guys off, but this time he was more turned on by it than he could ever remember being. Castiel was stunning like this, fighting back moans, one hand grasping the sheets with a white-knuckled grip, the other tugging insistently at Dean’s hair, his skin seeming to glow in the lights of the skyscrapers streaming through the window. Dean sank down on Castiel’s cock as far as he could, and Castiel let out a noise like a sob and started rocking his hips upward, not hard enough to choke Dean but unable to hold completely still any longer. Dean pressed himself against the sheets, almost rutting against them in an attempt to take the edge off, and Castiel shuddered and gasped when Dean moaned around his cock.

 

“Jesus Christ, _Dean_ …” he breathed out, and Dean could really get used to hearing Castiel sounding that wrecked. With anyone else he would already be balls deep in them, chasing the ending blindly- with Castiel, he wanted to drag out every moment along the way, and it was a new feeling. New, and almost spiritual.

 

He pulled off Castiel long enough to open the olive oil and get a generous amount onto his fingers, and then he started stroking Castiel’s cock again, slow and tight. It was distraction for his next move, trailing his other hand down farther between his legs, rubbing gently at first across Castiel’s opening. He watched as Castiel parted his legs a little more, tilting his hips, giving Dean easier access, and really, who was Dean to deny him?

 

“Relax, Cas,” he said softly as he pressed one finger inside. Castiel tensed around him at first, so tight that Dean was having second thoughts about how this was going to go, but at his words Castiel began to relax underneath him. Dean waited, his other hand still keeping that slow rhythm on Castiel’s cock, feeling the muscles slowly unclench one by one.

 

He slid his finger the rest of the way in, his eyes on Castiel’s face, his mind desperately trying to ignore his own aching erection for the moment. It wasn’t a race, they would both get there, and Dean wanted to see every moment of the build up. Wanted to commit this to memory when he might well not see it again for months after tonight.

 

“More,” Castiel demanded, pressing up against Dean’s hand, and Dean obliged him, stopping the slow glide of the first finger long enough to add in a second. Once again Castiel clenched down around him, but this time he relaxed on his own, much quicker than before. It was no time before Dean had three fingers plunging in and out of him, Castiel breathing out stifled moans with every stroke, and all Dean could think of was making him lose that careful control.

 

Castiel’s hand reached down and fumbled to pull Dean’s hand off his cock, about the same time Dean found the right angle within Castiel to make his hips buck upward and a loud cry escape him that he couldn’t stifle.

 

“Dean, I can’t…please…” he managed, tugging at Dean insistently, pupils blown wide in the dim light. Dean knew what he was saying- unless he wanted things to end prematurely, he’d need to get a move on. And he obviously had no objections to that. He slowly tugged his fingers free from Castiel, leaning over to kiss him again when he whined softly at the loss.

 

“I might have a condom in my wallet, do you…”

 

“Are you clean?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Castiel nodded. “Me too. Please, just _fuck me_.”

 

And those words were his undoing. He fumbled to peel off his boxers and grabbed for the bottle of oil, making quick work of starting to slick himself up as he tossed the bottle somewhere off the bed. He started to stroke himself, but then Castiel’s hand was pushing his aside, taking over spreading the oil across his skin. He bit his lip at the feeling of Castiel’s hand on his cock, overly sensitive after being neglected so long. It was difficult to convince your dick that the wait would totally be worth it.

 

And it was worth it. He tugged Castiel’s hand away before he could get too worked up, and he climbed back over Castiel and kissed him hard, his tongue darting in to taste the mint of toothpaste mixed with something that was completely Castiel. He slid one hand down to line himself up, encouraged by Castiel’s legs winding over his own to pull him in quicker as he pressed forward.

 

Castiel dropped his head back and his grip on Dean tightened almost painfully at first, and Dean fought to hold himself still once he got partially in, waiting for Castiel to get used to the feeling. It was everything he’d imagined it would be, all tight heat and slick skin, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Castiel nodded and he was able to press forward again.

 

“Oh god, Dean,” Castiel moaned as Dean pushed all the way in to the hilt, and Dean tried to take deep breaths against the skin of Castiel’s throat, fighting to keep control when everything was so overwhelming. Castiel wasn’t that patient, though; he rolled his hips up against Dean, and Dean groaned and took the cue, starting to move slowly.

 

It was like a dance that neither of them had to practice to fall into. Castiel’s legs tightened around Dean, ankles crossed just below his waist, and Dean was lost to it. He pulled nearly all the way out and shoved in harder with each thrust. He slid one hand down to Castiel’s hip, moving with him to find that perfect angle- he knew he wasn’t going to last long, and he needed Castiel there with him.

 

Then Castiel arched and tensed underneath him with what could only be described as a _wail_ , and Dean pressed in closer against him, thrusts shorter and hard enough that Castiel had to brace a hand against the headboard to keep from hitting it. He’d obviously given up all semblance of controlling the noises he made, keeping up a steady stream of moans and gasps interspersed with ‘Dean’ and ‘please’ and ‘oh god’, and if that wasn’t an ego boost than Dean didn’t know what was.

 

“Yeah, come on, Cas,” Dean growled, ignoring the slamming of the headboard against the wall, his hips jerking furiously against Castiel to bring out even more of those sounds. The pressure was building, the pleasure almost blinding, and Dean groaned and shoved forward, grinding into Castiel and tearing a howl of pleasure from the other man’s throat.

 

“Dean, I….I can’t…”

 

Dean knew what he meant to say without him even finishing it. It was too much, and Dean knew the feeling- at the edge of that cliff, not wanting to fall over because it was _too much_ , and the thought that Castiel was going to come without anything more than the friction of their bodies on his dick was enough to have Dean trying to hold himself back from that edge.

 

Dean needed to see Castiel come. It was an almost primal feeling, an urge to watch him finally let go, and he lifted his head and did the first thing he thought would tip him over- he moved his hand from where it had been holding Castiel’s hip, instead reaching up and shoving his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “I’ve got you, Cas. I’ve got you, just let go,” he said, and then he pulled firmly, tugging Castiel’s head back against the pillow.

 

The scream that Castiel let out could probably be heard two apartments down. Dean hung on long enough to try and take in everything about that moment, Castiel’s hips shoving down on Dean’s cock desperately, his body pulsing around Dean, and that was more than enough; especially when combined with Castiel’s blunt nails dragging roughly down his back.

 

Dean finally gave in, his thrusts losing rhythm, hips stuttering against the almost painfully tight grip of Castiel around him, and then he was coming hard. He moaned some semblance of Castiel’s name, hyper aware of the feeling of Castiel’s skin against his, his grip loosening on Castiel’s hair and just sliding through the strands as he shoved himself in deep one last time.

 

They were a sticky mess as Dean collapsed onto Castiel, breathing ragged and bodies limp with exhaustion, but Dean’s skin was still humming with pleasure and he couldn’t convince himself to move right now. Castiel pulled him into a kiss, one more lazy and less urgent than they had been till now, and Dean let his fingers continue to stroke lightly through Castiel’s hair, earning a pleased hum from the man underneath him.

 

“Wow,” Castiel breathed out, and Dean just nodded, still trying to catch his breath. His brain needed a few minutes to kick back in after that.

 

“I should go back to my own room before I fall asleep,” he murmured against Castiel’s shoulder after a few long minutes of silence, his tone heavy with displeasure about it, but Castiel just tightened his grip on Dean.

 

“Don’t.”

 

Dean lifted his head with an amused look. “There’ll be cameras here in the morning, Cas,” he pointed out, but Castiel just made a very disgruntled noise as they shifted to lie face to face. Castiel cuddled in close, practically nuzzling Dean’s throat.

 

“Let them see.”

 

“We’re naked, Cas.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“We’re sticky with questionable bodily fluids, our clothes are all over the room, and there’s a bottle of olive oil beside the bed. I don’t think I want my mom seeing that on network TV.”

 

“Don’t care.”

 

Dean chuckled and kissed the top of Castiel’s head. “A compromise, then,” he said, managing to wiggle his way out of Castiel’s grip. He tugged on his boxers and threw Castiel’s to him, then put away the olive oil in the kitchen, and brought back a wet washcloth to clean them both up. Castiel muttered the whole time, but went along with it and at least pulled on his boxers before Dean slid back into bed.

 

“Now you can sleep,” he said, fitting himself to Castiel’s back and sliding an arm around him. He kissed the back of Castiel’s shoulders a few times before settling in for the night, really not caring that they would probably both be sore and tired in the morning. And the producers would probably be pissed about them screwing around after the cameras left.

 

It was totally worth it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to reference pics (garment reference only, makeup and model not applicable):
> 
> [Castiel](http://imgur.com/fdBfy6f)
> 
> [Charlie](http://imgur.com/niTx3p7)
> 
> [Dean](http://imgur.com/oSXDVtN)
> 
> [Kevin](http://imgur.com/fnNSfS1)
> 
> [Meg](http://imgur.com/2JfQrwd)


End file.
